I Saw Daddy Beating Santa Claus
by Sawnya
Summary: When Vegeta takes Bra to the mall to see Santa, he is arrested after a fistfight with the jolly elf. Now sentenced to being a mall Santa himself until Christmas, Vegeta must find a way to survive his new job and regain his daughter's trust in him.
1. Ch 1: Jingle Bells, Frieza Smells

**I SAW DADDY BEATING SANTA CLAUS**

**Chapter One: "Jingle Bells, Frieza Smells..."**

**(Dragonball Z characters belong to Akira Toriyama, Toei, Funimation, and all other involved parties.) **

This is a non-profit story that has been floating around in my head for over a year. A bit early, I know, but what the hey...I want to see, if I still have what it takes. Enjoy!

* * *

"Bra, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Miss Mitchum?"

"It's your turn today to pick the Christmas song for us to sing before we go to lunch. What's your favorite song?"

Six-year-old Bra grinned mischievously, as she proudly strolled up to the front of the classroom, dressed in her little pink shirt and red jumper. "It's a song that my daddy made up. He sings it all the time when we have Christmas. Can I sing that?"

"Well, sure, Bra. I didn't know your daddy wrote songs. What's this one about?"

"Well, Daddy says it's about a bunch of people he knew before moving to Earth."

"Moving to Earth?" Miss Mitchum was genuinely puzzled.

"Yes, he told me he was prince of a planet far, far away, before some skinny white lizard who talked like a girl, but was a guy, blew it up and made him his slave."

"Of course, sweetheart...well, glad he escaped," Miss Mitchum said uncomfortably. She was really going to have to schedule a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Briefs about Bra's overactive imagination and the bizarre stories that Bra always told. Ever since Bra had started in the first grade class, she had been telling her classmates and her teacher wild stories about her father being an alien prince who came to Earth to take it over, but decided to later turn good. Bra was quite a storyteller, but Miss Mitchum was starting to think that Bra was going too far with her tales.

"Why don't you just sing your song, okay?"

"Okay! And everyone sings with me!" Bra chirped.

"Of course!"

Bra opened her mouth wide and belted out:

"_Jingle Bells, Frieza smells!_

_Zarbon waxed his legs!_

_Daddy kicks that fag's green ass,_

_No matter how he begs..."_

* * *

_After school..._

"Vegeta, this is not funny!" Bulma yelled at her still laughing husband. "How could you have taught Bra that song?" She was squeezed into a tiny desk, while Vegeta, standing up, was enjoying Miss Mitchum's story of Bra's antics in class. It had lightened his mood somewhat, especially after the intensive training that Bulma had forced him to interrupt.

Earlier, he had been annoyed that he had to come to this ridiculous meeting. He had to interrupt his training, just because his daughter used a few "naughty" words in a song. He had sang that song around his daughter several times, but even he never expected her to teach her classmates the words.

But still, teachers always seemed to call him and his wife down to the school for the most ludicrous reasons. Such as that time that Trunks was in a fight at school five years ago, when he had been forced to come to Trunks's school by himself because Bulma had been out of town on business. Not caring too much that Trunks's opponent had been on the way to the hospital, Vegeta's first question had been, if Trunks had won the fight. When the principal had angrily hissed a yes, Vegeta had yelled, "Then why in the hell did you call me down here, if my son won the fight?"

Now Bra and a few classmates, still waiting for their parents, were outside the classroom, still happily chorusing the song that Bra had taught them.

"JINGLE BELLS, FRIEZA SMELLS! ZARBON WAXED HIS LEGS..."

Vegeta chuckled, despite the deadly glares he received from Bulma and Miss Mitchum. "I didn't exactly mean for her to sing in front of her classmates, you know! But she _was_ telling the truth! I did kick Zarbon's sorry green ass, and I still don't regret it! That prissy right-hand man of Frieza's had it coming to him!"

"Mr. Briefs..." an exasperated Miss Mitchum began.

"That's Prince Vegeta to you!" Vegeta shouted.

"And about that 'prince' matter...you really need to stop telling your daughter such fairy tales...she actually believes them and repeats them to the entire class! It's time you told your daughter the truth and not just a bunch of pretty stories."

"Well, actually, he is a prince—"Bulma spoke in defense of her husband, but it was already too late. Vegeta's face was red, and his fists were clenched. Low hisses emitted from his between his teeth.

He exploded, "I AM A PRINCE! MY RACE IS NEARLY EXTINCT, YES, BUT I AM THE PRINCE OF ALL THE SAIYANS! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"Sir, please; I just don't think it's right for you to—"

"To do what?" Vegeta roared, slamming his fists on the teacher's desk. "To tell my daughter the truth about her heritage? She herself is actually royalty, you know! What do you want me to do? Lie and tell her I am some mere Earthling?"

"Vegeta, calm down," Bulma told him firmly, taking his arm.

"No way! I am not going to allow this woman, this so-called _teacher_ to accuse my daughter and I of being liars?" He took a deep breath and huffed, adding abruptly, "But, you know what, she's not worth wasting our time any further!" He stormed over to the door and opened it, yelling, "BRA! It's time for us to go home!"

"O...kay," Bra said very hesitantly, as her father scooped her up into the crook of his arm.

"Are you coming?" Vegeta asked his mortified and irritated wife.

"I suppose," Bulma grumbled, vowing to give him a piece of her mind when they returned home. She apologized in a low voice to Miss Mitchum, promising her another meeting time, and stormed out of the classroom after her husband, who had embarrassed her at yet _another_ parent-teacher conference. When was she going to learn never to bring him along?

* * *

"I am not apologizing to that wench!"

"Oh, yes, you are!"

"Oh no, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"I said I'm not! I don't apologize to those who question my heritage and blood!"

"You will this time! You went too far!

"No, I won't, and no, I didn't!"

"You will tell her you're sorry, and I'll speak to her on my own!"

"I am not speaking to her again!"

"Yes, you will!"

"No, I won't!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No, and I mean it!"

"Yes, you will!"

"Yes, I will!"

"No, you won't!"

"I will!"

"You won't!"

"I will, and I mean it!"

"No, you won't!"

"Oh, yes, I will go back and apologize."

"No, you won't, Vegeta! You're not going back to apologize, and that's final!"

Vegeta chuckled and crossed his arms. "Okay, woman, you win! I won't apologize! I'm going to train now. See you later!" He started to walk towards the exit of the elaborately decorated living room.

Bulma shook her fists and growled, as Vegeta started walking away. "You tricked me, you bastard!"

He smirked. "So, there is something to be learned from Bra's cartoons, after all. Now, tomorrow is Saturday, you know, so naturally, no school nonsense should interrupt my training then."

"I trust you'll be able to keep better control of your temper after today," Bulma retorted.

Vegeta grinned. "Don't count on it. You and that teacher get too worked up over nothing. And to make you feel better, I told the girl not to sing that song anymore at school; that should shut that wench who teaches her up."

"Vegeta," Bulma said, with more careful control of her voice, "Miss Mitchum had a point: Bra doesn't need to be using those words at school. And you're not showing her a very good example by allowing her to use those words and losing your temper with her teacher. That temper of yours has put you in trouble more than one time in your life; one of these days it could cost more than even you or I could pay."

"My temper is just fine, and you would throw a fit too, if someone accused you of lying about who you really are! Besides, your language isn't always what I would call, 'ladylike'."

"At least, I don't use those 'unladylike' words around my children!"

"The way you don't 'use them' around the children is loud enough for them to hear. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to catch up on the training that I was rudely forced to stop." He turned on his heel and started walking away.

"Well, excuse me, for interrupting your always-important training with real-life problems, such as your daughter misbehaving at school—"

"Mommy, I'm sorry," Bra's soft voice interrupted her mother's tirade.

Bulma bent down towards a now repentant Bra. "It will be alright, Bra, but you must write a note to your teacher saying that you're sorry, okay?"

"Okay," Bra assured her somberly. She then whispered, "Mommy, will I still get to see Santa Claus tomorrow?"

"We'll see," Bulma replied, as she pulled out her PDA and pressed a button to show her schedule. After consulting her device, she gasped, "Oh, no! I forgot! I had a series of meetings scheduled for tomorrow!"

Bra's face fell. "That means I won't get to see Santa tomorrow?" Tears glistened in her aqua eyes.

Bulma looked down the corridor towards the figure of a retreating Vegeta, who was already near the gravity room. She said, "Bra, wait here, okay?" Before Bra could reply, her mother had vanished.

* * *

"The answer is no!"

"You can't even take your daughter to see Santa Claus? Vegeta, I have meetings all day tomorrow, and you'll be here at home all day! It's not like there's an enemy waiting to destroy Earth tomorrow!"

"And how would you know? Besides, I don't like the man!"

"And what did _Santa_ do to you? Leave too much coal in your stocking?"

"Don't be smart! The man is a pervert!"

"WHAT?" Bulma exclaimed.

"It's very simple. Even I know how that moronic Christmas song goes: 'He sees you when you're sleeping/ He knows when you're awake'. Doesn't that worry you a little? How do you know that old fart isn't 'seeing' you in the shower?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"_My_ mind is in the gutter? I'm not the one who bribes little children with presents and candy to sit on my lap and cuddle with me! Think about it: if any other man offered our daughter gifts to sit on his lap, you'd think he was a potential child molester."

"Vegeta, we are talking about _Santa Claus_! He is just a jolly, old man, who wants to make kids happy."

"Or expects kids to make _him_ happy! And anyway, you told me before that there are men who are _paid_ to dress as that old man. How do you know one of them isn't really after small children? And besides, even if Santa and his friends meant no harm towards children, he's too annoying for my taste. Too cheerful, too jolly, too ho-ho-ho all the time! And how can any man, without ki knowledge be able to travel to every single house in one night! Doesn't that strike you as bizarre?"

"Vegeta, I told you before that Santa wasn't—"

"Yeah, I know. You said he wasn't real. So, why should I waste my time taking my daughter to see some loser dressed in an outdated suit, who isn't going to give her anything more than a candy cane? We're the ones who give her all her gifts!"

"Vegeta, Bra really wants to see Santa. Look, why don't you try doing something family-related for once?" Bulma insisted. "Do it to make her happy."

"If she wants to see Santa, she can watch him on TV. His wrinkled, old face is on every channel here lately."

"It's not the same thing. She wants to be able to tell him what she wants for Christmas."

"Why? She gets her gifts from us, not that old faker!"

"Vegeta, will you _please_ take Bra to see Santa?" Bulma pleaded in a strangely submissive tone. "I know Trunks wishes that you had taken him to see Santa, and I don't want Bra to miss out on what Trunks did. And, I know two females in this house who would be happier for it, especially yours truly." A half-seductive smile formed on her face, as she traced Vegeta's chin with her index finger. "I promise, if you take Bra to see Santa and make her happy, I just may make it worth your while later."

Vegeta smirked, mellowing somewhat. "Very well, I suppose I can endure a day with the old fool. But if he turns out like I suspect and makes my daughter unhappy, I shall—"

"Thank you!" Bulma exclaimed, kissing him soundly on his lips, and Vegeta was content to be quiet for a few moments.


	2. Ch 2: Please Don't Hurt Santa!

**Chapter Two: "Please Don't Hurt Santa!"**

_West Capital City Mall…_

"Jingle Bells, Frieza smells…"

"Bra, that's enough!" Vegeta ordered his daughter, as he marched her towards the long, looping line leading to Santa's throne. Even he was tiring of the song he had impulsively created, after his daughter had sung it for the two-millionth time today. Bra had only promised not to sing it at school, and her father was wondering if maybe he should make her stop singing it altogether.

"Pick a different song," he told her gruffly, when Bra's large blue eyes clouded with disappointment.

"Okay!" Bra chirped, immediately happy again. "You better watch out, you better not cry! You better not pout; I'm telling you why…"

Vegeta sighed, wishing his daughter had picked a song that did not include Santa. He was already sick of the old fool, and he and his daughter had not even approached him yet. Santa was everywhere, in the bell-ringers with their cacophonous ringing, the cheesy plastic faces dangling outside of mall windows, and unfortunately, even in Bra's red velvet dress and matching Santa hat with a bell. Why did his wife have to pick _that_ outfit for their child to wear?

Bra, oblivious to her father's disgruntlement, was joyously swinging his hand in hers. "Do you know what I'm asking Santa for Christmas?"

"I can't imagine. You already have everything you could want and need. What else could that old man bring you that you don't already have?"

"Candy!" Bra sang. "And Patty Poopsey; she's a doll that really poops and even farts—"

"Why would you want a doll that poops?" Vegeta openly gagged. It was bad enough that she already had two dolls that "peed". What was it with children wanting the grossest things imaginable?

"Because she's neat!" Bra crowed knowingly, as if her father should have already known. "And I also want Dollie Mollie and Candy Apple dolls and the Candy Apple Dream Mansion, and…"

Vegeta half-listened for five minutes before he abruptly told her to save her verbal list for Santa's ears. Bra subsided, but she still glowed with excitement of seeing Santa again this year. She just hoped that Santa wouldn't be mad at her for singing her daddy's song in school.

Nevertheless, she hugged herself, crowing, "I love Santa!"

Vegeta grunted. Perhaps, she did, but more likely, it was the toys that Santa supposedly brought her every year that made her happy. "Hmmph," he snorted, crossing his arms, as he usually did. "So what, if Santa brings toys; he's nothing compared to the Dark Saiyan!"

Bra was intrigued. "Who's the Dark Saiyan, Daddy? I heard Mommy telling Aunt Chichi that you believed in him, but who is he?"

"He's a bit like your Santa Claus, only he brought _useful_ gifts every year, like great strength, intelligence, and courage to defeat your enemies. If you tried your best to be a good warrior back on my home planet and succeeded in most of your battles, the Dark Saiyan would come to your home and make you even stronger and mightier than before. And if you were a _really_ good warrior and fighter, he would leave you and your family a grand feast!"

"What did he look like?"

"His hair was pure fire, his eyes were burning black, and he was gigantic—in his Saiyan form, that was. Most of the time, though, he went around as a big, black Oozaru, and he would blow fire from his mouth towards weaklings and enemies, burning them to a—"

"Daddy, he sounds scary!" Bra protested.

"He was one of the deadliest of Saiyan warriors. What do you expect? Why, I almost saw the Dark Saiyan myself the last year I was on planet Vegeta, and—"

"Oh, wait, Daddy, I remember now what Mommy said about the Dark Saiyan!"

"And what was that?" Vegeta asked cautiously.

"Mommy told Aunt Chichi that you thought the Dark Saiyan was real, but he wasn't. She said that it was a Saiyan myth that you still believed in."

Vegeta growled, as he made a mental note to have a "talk" with his wife about maligning one of the few men he had looked up to besides his own father. "Well, your mother is wrong! The Dark Saiyan _was _real!"

"Where is he now?"

Vegeta sighed, suddenly a bit sad. "He went on to his reward. It is said that when he died, he would watch over all Saiyans and guard and strengthen them in battle from beyond his grave. Either he died with the rest of my people, or he escaped. It has been a long time, but _he_ was a great Saiyan warrior, and—"

"HO, HO, HO!"

"Santa!" Bra shrieked with delight, taking her father's hand and dragging them to the end of the line. "C'mon, Daddy!" Very reluctantly, Vegeta trailed behind his excited daughter to the line of eager children.

He growled low and soft, noticing again the fifteen children already ahead of him and Bra. Some of them were waving long lists of the toys and gifts they wanted for Christmas. Glowing mothers, who had tiny children about to see Santa for the first time, whispered to them of the wonderful things that Santa would do for them. As Vegeta listened, he rolled his eyes at the mothers' well-meaning fairy-tales; what would their children say when they were old enough to learn that "Santa" was nothing more than some guy trying to earn an extra pittance before Christmas and couldn't give any of them anything beyond a candy cane?

Already, he was sorely tempted to hoist his daughter over his shoulder and shove their way to the front of the line, so he could get this Santa business done with, but he knew what would happen, if Bra ever told her mother that he had cut in line. His daughter _should_ be the first to see that old fool anyway; after all, she was a Saiyan princess. But he knew that his wife and the rest of the world wouldn't see it that way.

* * *

_Kami, how long does it take to tell that old man what you want for Christmas?_

Vegeta sulked, as he leaned against a garland-wrapped pillar, while Bra was dancing about, eagerly waiting her turn to tell Santa her dreams. Finally, there was, thankfully, just one child left before Bra.

Santa was sitting on his red, velvet throne, holding a small boy, younger than Bra, dressed in red and blue. The child looked up at him eagerly through blue eyes, as he clutched his crude list scribbled in crayon. "Santa…" he whispered reverently.

"He's so lucky!" Bra chimed. "I wish I was up there right now."

"I want a truck, and a puppy and a pony, and a robot who will clean my room for me, so I don't have to do it…"

Vegeta growled under his breath. This was going to be a long day; it didn't help that his stomach was already growling; those three bowls of cereal and ten strips of bacon just hadn't filled him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the little boy start to squirm and wiggle; the child still continued to read from his list, despite his obvious discomfort.

As he tried to calm his impatient stomach, Bra tugged at his hand. "Daddy, what's wrong with Santa?"

"What do you mean what's wrong with Santa—" Vegeta began, and then he saw where Bra was now pointing. Santa's face was red and scrunched in…anger?

Yes, anger. For the little boy sitting on Santa's lap had accidentally wet himself on his benefactor. He had been bravely trying to control his bladder until he could finish with Santa and make it to the restroom, but his efforts were in vain. He trembled in fear at the signs of Santa's coming fury: the crossed arms, still-red face, heavy scowl, and stiff posture.

"Didn't your momma potty-train you?" he growled.

The boy burst into tears. "Momma!" he cried, dashing off of Santa's lap and towards his mother's open embrace.

"Daddy," Bra said worriedly. "Why's Santa being so mean?"

Before Vegeta could reply with a derogatory comment about Santa, an older man dressed as an elf, whispered something, possibly a lecture, into Santa's ear. Santa huffed, but he arose and swaggered over to the frightened little boy and his angry mother. The mother, standing in front of Vegeta and Bra, rocked him back and forth, as she glared at Santa.

"Santa's sorry. I'm just tired and need a nap. I didn't mean to yell," he slurred long and low. The mother wrinkled her nose in disgust at his breath, and Vegeta understood why: the man had alcohol on his breath.

"Hmmph," the mother snorted and turned away from the inebriated Santa. She said to her son, "C'mon, Jimmy, we'll come to see Santa again—when he's sober—and at _another_ mall." After that, she stormed away, carrying her son. The "elf" that had chastised Santa for his behavior shook his head and crossed his arms.

Vegeta was about to follow the mother's lead and take Bra away, but before he could, Santa took Bra's hand and pulled her towards him. Bra's eyes were wide with worry, as she now reluctantly followed Santa to his chair. Slowly, she climbed onto his lap, looking back at her father, who was inching closer, about to take her away from Santa as soon as possible.

_If that old fart treats my daughter the way that he did that boy earlier, _he'll_ be the one getting coal—where the sun doesn't shine!_

"Don't be scared of Santa, little girl!" Santa chuckled. "I didn't mean to make that boy cry or scare you. Even Santa gets cranky sometimes when he's tired; I'm sure your daddy does too. In fact, he looks like he could use a nap right about now, don't you agree?" If he had been sober, Santa would have noticed the deadly glare and clenched fists of the little girl's father and would have commented no further. But he continued, giving Bra a large candy cane with a ribbon tied on it, "Doesn't your daddy get mad and yell sometimes?" He flashed a cheesy grin at her.

"He did the other day—at my teacher, but Mommy wasn't happy about it. I sang his favorite song at school and got in trouble," Bra piped up, allowing the candy cane to ease some of her anxiety about Santa. Then she looked at Santa worriedly. "But, Santa, I won't do it again at school, I promise! And I won't pee on your lap, either."

Santa laughed. "I know _you_ won't! And I know the boy just had an accident, so don't worry 'bout that, okay? I'll make sure he gets some extra toys and candy to make up for it. Anyway, did anyone tell you how pretty you are? I bet you're as pretty as your mommy."

"They tell me that all the time! And I look just like her!" Bra boasted, sitting up straight and proud like the Saiyan princess she was. "And Daddy calls me his little princess!" Vegeta's face was now redder than Santa's suit.

"That's good, 'cause you are a little princess, aren't you? Now what do you want for Christmas?"

"Well, I want Patty Poopsey and Candy Apple, and…"

As Bra named several more toys, the mall manager, dressed in a gray suit and red tie, stomped over to Santa's throne. He normally knew better than to berate employees in front of customers, but he was so fed up by the umpteenth complaint he received from a child's parent, that he wasn't thinking straight. "Santa!" he yelled. "I just received the tenth complaint this week about your behavior towards the kids! And I heard you were drinking today while on the clock! I want to see you in my office!"

"I ain't been drinkin'!" Santa snapped.

"Then why was that bottle of beer in your coat pocket?"

"Stuckey put it in there! That guy's had it in for me since I started here!"

"Oh, and I suppose Stuckey stashed those three empty bottles of beer in your locker?"

"It wouldn't surprise me! Stuckey's been tryin' to screw me over since I've been here—just cause I get more hours than he does."

"Whatever," the manager huffed. "Just hurry up with these kids—and no more problems!"

"Fine, fine," Santa grumbled. He put his arm around Bra, much to Vegeta's agitation, and asked her in a cooing voice to tell him more of what she wanted. Vegeta was about to yank Bra away from Santa, when a little boy yelled from behind him.

"C'mon, Santa, I want my turn!"

"Yeah! Hurry up, Santa!" the kids behind the boy shouted. "Hurry up!"

"Shaddup, brats!" Santa roared, unwrapping his arm from Bra. "Or I'll give ya somethin' to really hurry up for!"

"Do it then!" the boy cried. "I know you're just some old geezer in a costume anyway. Where's the real Santa?"

"Henry!" his mother hissed, shaking him. "You apologize at once."

"That's not the real Santa?" Henry's little sister cried.

"Of course he is, Janey," the mother assured her.

"No, he's not," Henry argued. "I saw him earlier with no hat or beard!"

"You lying brat!" Santa snapped. "You're on my bad list for the rest of your life!"

"Santa!" the manager exclaimed. "You apologize immediately!"

"Hell, if I will!" Santa retorted. He abruptly plucked Bra from his lap and set her on the floor, none too gently. "That's it! I ain't dealin' with no more brats today! Good-bye!" And he turned on his shiny black heel and marched away angrily.

"Santa, wait! I wasn't done!" Bra cried, close to tears.

"Send me an email, kid! I ain't takin' no more requests today!"

Bra put her face in her hands and began to sob. Vegeta gathered her to him. "Don't cry over that fool; he's not worth it."

"Why's he so mad, Daddy? I didn't get to finish telling him what I wanted!"

Vegeta wiped his daughter's tears away with his thumbs. "Oh, you will, I promise. Daddy's going to bring Santa back, right now." He would have preferred to take Bra home, but he wasn't about to let some old faker in an obsolete suit break his child's heart. Santa was going to finish what he started—or else.

* * *

"Ah, that hits the spot! I love ya, Jack Daniels! You're the one guy in life that's never let me down!"

Santa lay back, chugging one of his favorite liquors from a flask. His Santa hat and beard lay on the worn table next to him in the mall employee lounge, and his jacket was draped over a pile of papers. He was now only in his undershirt and red pants. He wiped the drizzle of alcohol that was trailing along his unshaven face. He tipped his chair back and forth in contentment.

"Alright, Santa, there you are! You're coming back out, right now!" The short and obviously foul-tempered father of the little girl that Santa had held earlier was standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed and black eyes narrowed.

"Name's Rodney! I ain't Santa no more today, troll-doll!"

Vegeta growled, barely restraining the impulse to deliver Rodney the early Christmas present of a Gallic Gun down his throat. After all, he needed the man mostly intact to make his daughter happy. "Do not insult me any further. Now go back outside and tend to my daughter. She is not finished with her requests, old man."

"How much did she pay to see me?"

"Nothing, you fool! My wife told me that seeing you was free!"

"Then the brat got more than her money's worth! Now go 'way!"

"Hell, if I will! You will go out there and finish your job and make my daughter happy—or else!"

"Or else what?" Rodney challenged.

"Or else _you'll_ be the one receiving coal—up your ass!"

Rodney staggered to his feet. "Ooh, I'm so scared, short stuff! Who you think you are to boss me around—one of Santa's elves? Ya certainly look like one of them—heh, heh, heh!" He laughed at his own joke. "They hirin' for elves right now, so do us both a favor, shorty, and go apply!"

"I'm going to apply my fists to your face, if you don't get up and go back out there! NOW! Put your hat and beard on, and let's go!" And Vegeta snatched the red hat and white beard and shoved them over Rodney's head. But before Vegeta could finish, Rodney slapped at Vegeta's angry hands.

"I will when I'm good an' ready, future elf-man! And when you go to apply, bring your wifey along. Your kid did say she looked like her momma, right? If the momma's anywhere as good-lookin' as her daughter, she'd make a hot Mrs. Claus! I wouldn't mind having _her_ for Christmas, if what your kid says is true! So, how 'bout it?"

"How about this?" Vegeta roared, forgetting to control himself and slamming his fist into Rodney's face. Rodney's body crashed into a table, but the drunken man had more stamina than Vegeta thought. For even though his nose was bleeding and swollen, Rodney charged like a dog robbed of a steak and launched himself at Vegeta. Vegeta seized Rodney by his collar and flung him out of the lounge and into the hallway. His body crashed into the side of a wheeled dumpster, but despite his head and ribs being sore and bruised, Rodney scrambled to his feet and began running for his life, with Vegeta flying after him in pursuit.

"Come back here, you coward, and face me like a man!"

* * *

"Where's Santa?"

"Why is he mad?"

"When's he coming back?"

"Yes, where _is_ Santa?" the mother of Henry and Janey demanded to know.

"Where's my daddy?" Bra asked worriedly. "He said he was going to bring Santa back. Where are they?"

"Look!" Janey exclaimed. "Santa's coming now!"

"YAYYY!" the other kids, except for Henry chorused. Santa started running towards the crowd, waving his hands frantically. His hat had long fallen off of his balding head, but his beard had surprisingly remained intact, just enough to still convince the kids (except for Henry) that he was the real Santa.

"Help me!" Santa cried, unconsciously slipping into the fake "old man" voice he had always used around the kids. "Save me!"

"Look!" Janey cried. "There's a scary troll-doll man flying above Santa!"

"Oh no!" screamed another little girl. "He's after Santa! He's going to hurt him!"

"That's my daddy!" Bra shrieked, recognizing her angry father, as he landed onto his feet and right behind Santa. "Daddy, stop, don't hurt him!"

But Vegeta was too angry to listen to his daughter's protests. He was running furiously after Rodney, and within seconds of catching up to him, he seized Rodney's collar. Rodney started to sob and wet his pants as Vegeta turned him around and punched him hard in his face. Rodney tried in vain to punch him back, but it was like hitting a brick wall; his blows had no effect on the Saiyan prince. Vegeta then shoved his fist into Rodney's soft, flabby stomach.

"Daddy, please don't hurt Santa!" Bra cried.

"HELP!" Rodney screamed. "SOMEONE HELP ME, PLEASE!"

"Oh, I'll help you alright!" Vegeta shouted. "I'll help you into the next dimension!" And with that, he took Rodney by his collar and whirled him around several times and hurled him into a nearby water fountain. The fountain was oval-shaped and Rodney would have fallen all the way into the water, if his shirt had not been caught onto the hand of one of the three mermaid statues spitting out water. The mermaid repeatedly poured water out of its mouth onto Rodney's head.

Bra burst into tears, along with many of the other children. "Daddy, why?" she screamed. "Why did you beat up Santa Claus? I'm telling Mommy!" And after that, the heartbroken little girl dashed away from Santa's throne before anyone could stop her. She scurried towards the mall exit.

"Bra, come back here!" Vegeta yelled after his daughter.

"He beat up Santa!" a little boy shouted. "Let's get him!"

"Yeah, let's get him!" the other children screamed, as they ran towards a row of potted plants. All of the pots were lined with sparkly black and white rocks. The children started to gather up the rocks and throw them at Vegeta, who burst from the ground in time to avoid the assaults.

"Bra, where are you?" Vegeta shouted, paying little mind to the rocks that the children continued to throw at him. Like a missile, he zoomed through the air in pursuit of his daughter.

A troop of security guards were following behind the children, ordering them to stop throwing the rocks. The angry and disheartened children reluctantly obeyed, although all of them commanded the guards to "get the mean man who beat up Santa".

"Come down here immediately!" the head of the guards shouted at Vegeta, who was already far beyond his height and reach.

"You're under arrest!" one of the other guards cried in vain.

"Come down here at once!" the head guard ordered.

As Vegeta headed towards the mall entrance, where Bra had fled, he flashed his middle finger at the guards, just as he was landing at the door. He thrust the door open with one finger and raced out of the mall.

As he fled the mall, the head guard dialed the police on his cell phone, even as he shouted, "Keep pursuing him! Don't let him get away!"

* * *

Shivering and scared, little Bra was huddled in a phone booth, waiting for the operator to put her collect call through to Capsule Corp. Without delay, the call was accepted, and Bulma's worried voice answered the phone:

"Bra, honey, what's wrong? Where's Daddy?"

"Mommy!" Bra sobbed. "I saw Daddy beating Santa Claus!"


	3. Ch 3: A Really Mad Troll Doll!

**Chapter Three: "A Really Mad Troll Doll!"**

"Today on Channel Eight News…a Christmas tragedy…or comedy, depending on how you look at it…a disgruntled father, who supposedly can fly, attacked Santa Claus at West Capital Mall! The father appeared to be upset because this Santa had left his little daughter behind before she could finish saying what she wanted for Christmas. Other than that, no one really knows what started the fistfight between Santa and the father. The children, who were also there to see this Santa, have described Santa's attacker as 'looking like a really mad troll doll with lots of muscles and black hair.' We turn now to our on-the-spot reporter, Nosee´ Snuup, who's at West Capital Mall! Nosee´?"

The television screen split into two sides, and the anchorman, Newz Worthay was on one side while Nosee´ Snuup was on other. She fluffed her teased strawberry-blonde hair and flashed her gigantic lime-colored eyes, speaking with just the right combination of sorrow and excitement. "Hi, Newz! So sad, isn't it? We finally have identification on the man who attacked Santa Claus! Several store clerks in the mall recognized the man as Vegeta Briefs, husband of the famous Capsule Corp. heiress, Bulma Briefs. The little girl who was Santa's last visitor is their daughter, Bra Briefs…we'll go to commercials now, but we'll be right back with this tale of holiday hell raising…"

"How could Vegeta do what he did?" Goku exclaimed in horror, as a toilet paper commercial flashed on the screen with dancing toilet paper rolls using their "mouths" to carol Christmas songs.

Chichi, sitting next to him on the couch, sighed, as she knitted a Christmas tree sweater for Gohan. "Why are you so surprised? This is _Vegeta_ we're talking about!"

"Still, Chichi, how could he? Don't you see? Now Santa won't bring him anything for Christmas! Santa will be too scared to go to Capsule Corp to visit! He's gone too far this time! I'm going over there right now to tell him off for beating up Santa Claus!" And with that, Goku marched through the kitchen, over to the living room door and abruptly left the house.

"GOKU!" Chichi screamed, but she was already too late. She flopped back into the couch and sweat-dropped heavily. "Santa isn't re—oh, what's the use? It's not like he listens anyway—can't believe that man still thinks Santa is real!"

* * *

"…An embarrassment for Ms. Briefs, I imagine," Newz chuckled over his coffee. "Imagine being the wife of the man who beat up Santa!" 

Nosee´ laughed softly from her side of the television screen. "Well, you know Santa will be too afraid to come down their chimney after today!"

"What happened to the victim, Nosee´?"

"The victim, who was proven to be intoxicated at the time of his assault, is on his way to West Capital Hospital, and is still, amazingly enough, conscious! Let's get a few words with him, shall we?" And Nosee´ eagerly dashed up to the gurney, where "Santa" was being wheeled towards an ambulance.

"Santa…um, I mean, Mr. Draknurd? What caused Vegeta Briefs to attack you?"

"Ohhh…go 'way, I got a headache!" Rodney groaned piteously. "Leave me 'lone; go ask Troll-Doll!" And he allowed his head to fall back and his eyes to shut closed.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Snuup, but he must be left alone for now," one of the paramedics ordered the reporter, as they lifted Rodney's gurney into the ambulance.

As the doors closed, the unperturbed Nosee´ piped up, "Well, there you have it for now! We'll catch up with Mr. Draknurd later! Meanwhile, the suspect, Vegeta Briefs had escaped from West Capital City Mall, _flying through the air_!He is believed to still be searching for his runaway six-year-old daughter, Bra! Little Bra ran out of the mall after yelling at her father for beating up Santa! Right now, half of the city's police force is following him, but he's not surrendering. In fact, I was just told by several witnesses driving by, that Mr. Briefs, just ten minutes ago on Orange Avenue, flashed an obscene gesture at the police with his middle finger and shouted, 'Tis The Season'—"

Just entering the living room, Vegeta abruptly turned off the television. "'Tis The Season is right! Those idiots tried to prevent me from looking for Bra, who ran away! Bulma, has she called you?"

Bulma stood up with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. Vegeta tried not to gulp, even though he knew he was in for it. "Yes, Vegeta she _has_! In fact, I just brought her home, so you can stop looking. And right now, she doesn't want to see or speak to you, and I just about feel the same!"

"Is she alright?" Vegeta wanted to know, ignoring his wife's coming fury for now.

"Other than having her father humiliate her by beating up Santa, yes! Other than believing that Santa won't come to see us now because of what you did, yes! What the _hell_ were you thinking, Vegeta?"

"Woman, you don't understand!" Vegeta fumed. "That man had it coming to him! Why he—"

"I don't _care_, Vegeta! You had no _cause_ or _right_ to beat up on Santa Claus, of all people! I knew; I knew I should have made Bra wait to see Santa when I could take her myself. But that's not the worst thing you did! You broke your own daughter's heart! Why I have a mind to—"

"VEGETA BRIEFS, THIS IS THE POLICE AND NATIONAL GUARD! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

"Oh, I'll come out with something up, alright!" Vegeta declared, preparing both of his middle fingers.

"And you have the _police_ and _National Guard_ chasing after you? Brilliant, Vegeta, just brilliant!" Bulma fumed, as she stomped towards the front door. But before she could reach it, Vegeta was upon her, grabbing her arm.

"You are not talking to those fools," he ordered. "I will deal with them myself. Now step aside."

Bulma remained where she was. She knew what would happen, if Vegeta dealt with the authorities himself—there would be few, if any, of them, left alive. "Forget it, Vegeta; you are not using violence to solve _this_ problem, do you understand me?"

"I'm not going to kill them," he assured her smoothly, "as long as they don't make me."

"VEGETA BRIEFS, COME OUT NOW, OR WE'LL BE COMING IN!"

"Oh no, they won't!" Bulma declared. "Vegeta, if we want this problem solved quickly, there's only one thing to do."

"Gladly," Vegeta told her, powering up, as he started to open the door. He'd send those police officers and the National Guard an early Christmas present they'd never forget.

"Oh no," Bulma told him, grabbing her husband's wrist. "You are going to _surrender_—immediately!"

Vegeta burst into laughter. "You amuse me, woman! Me, the Prince of the Saiyans, surrender to a bunch of weaklings who have only guns to protect themselves? Have you ever considered becoming a comedienne?""

But the stern look on her face told him that she wasn't joking. She leaned against the doorway, awaiting a response. Vegeta knew that position and the accompanying expression well; this time, none of the usual methods he used to change Bulma's mind (often involving seduction) would work. He lowered his eyebrows and scowled at her. "Do you realize what you insist on my doing—turning myself over to _human_ authority?"

"Of course I do," Bulma coolly replied. "Now, if you want a chance to reconcile with both Bra and I, you will turn yourself in, understand?"

Vegeta growled, long and low, but very grudgingly, he opened the door and exited out of the Capsule Corp. building. He even held his hands in the air, although he gave his pursuers the dirtiest looks possible. He saw a light from an upstairs bedroom, as he marched quietly out onto the sidewalk, and he looked up into Bra's bedroom. He could see the shadow of Bra, with her face in her hands, and the sight of her misery broke his heart and awakened his guilt over his actions. Because of all of this, he forgot his original plan to flip his middle fingers at the police and National Guard.

With guns pointed, the police and guards swiftly surrounded Vegeta. He stoically kept his hands in the air and just _barely_ resisted the urge to give his capturers the "one-finger salute", or blast them into the next dimension.

* * *

_Ten days later…_

Normally, someone who was considered to be as dangerous as Vegeta would have been kept behind bars the entire time before his or her trial, but Bulma relented and paid the huge ten-million-zeni bail to free her husband. Since Vegeta's assault on "Santa Claus" had been caught on the mall cameras, and even in the mall stockroom, there was no way that the dream team of lawyers that Bulma had hired could hope to plead that Vegeta had not been the "really mad troll-doll who attacked Santa". The brilliant (and very patient) lawyers had achieved a miracle: Vegeta would serve no jail time for his crime, but instead do community service.

It had not been easy at first. Vegeta, of course, was not the most pleasant or easy of clients to have, and the lawyers just barely saved their difficult client from the judge's wrath at the arraignment hearing. When the judge had asked Vegeta how he did plead, Vegeta curtly replied, "The Prince of Saiyans DOES NOT plead!"

"He pleads guilty to assault, Your Honor!" the head lawyer quickly intercepted. Vegeta gave no disagreement. He had grudgingly agreed to plea to that charge, in order to stay out of jail.

Now, at his sentencing hearing today, Vegeta would learn what his community service assignment would be. Bulma was sitting beside him, still not entirely happy with him, but relieved, now that the worst was over. Neither Trunks nor Bra were present, both of them were at school, possibly enduring another long day of their classmates' taunting over their father's attack on Santa. Yet, even then, they had both declined, when Bulma had offered to take them out of school for that day.

The past ten days had been hard on the Briefs family; Bulma had just allowed him back into their bed, and they were on somewhat civil terms again. Trunks, still embarrassed by Vegeta's attack on Santa, had avoided his father as much as possible; his classmates had just now stopped ridiculing him—at least in his presence. Trunks had been in several fights because of such remarks as "is your dad going to beat up the Easter Bunny next?" and "your family won't get anything for Christmas because your dad beat Santa's ass".

But it was Bra that was suffering most of all. Still angry and hurt by her father's actions, she also refused to talk to him, except when absolutely necessary. When Vegeta had quietly asked her, if she'd like him to read her a story, she had said, "No, thanks. Mommy or Trunks will do it."

When Bulma had asked her, if she wanted to help decorate the Christmas tree, Bra had declined, saying, "No, thanks, Mommy. I'm not going to decorate 'cause Santa's not coming this year anyway. He'd be too scared of Daddy."

Bulma had tried to assure her daughter that Vegeta had not beaten up the real Santa, but Bra remained unconvinced. She even asked her mother not to mail her annual letter to Santa this year.

"I'm not even going to ask him for anything, 'cause I know he won't come. I'll just ask for Patty Poopsey next year. Maybe Santa might not be mad or scared of Daddy then."

Reflecting on the misery he caused his daughter, Vegeta sank into his seat in the courtroom, wanting his sentencing to be over with. From what his lawyers had told him, he would likely serve in a homeless shelter or charity during the holidays. Well, from what he had heard, at least the food in those places on the holidays was good.

"Vegeta Briefs?" the judge, who was a short, stout, and redheaded woman, prompted. Vegeta slowly arose. "Your sentence has been decided."

He only nodded, as his thoughts drifted back to Bra. What could he do to make things up to her—to make her the sweet, cheerful little girl she had once been? As he tried to think of all of the things she liked, he half-listened to the judge, hearing words such as "mall", "Santa Claus", and "until Christmas Eve". He nodded again, paying little mind, until a frightening thought occurred to him…

_Why was the judge mentioning Santa Claus? What did his sentence have to do with that old fool?_

He leaned over to the head lawyer, a balding man possibly as old as that perverted moron, Roshi, and asked, "What did that judge say about me and Santa?"

The lawyer laughed nervously. "Um…Mr. Briefs, she said you would have to take Rodney Draknurd's place as Santa Claus until Christmas Eve."

Vegeta fell against his chair, chuckling. "So, this judge has a sense of humor, eh? She doesn't actually expect me to play that old fart, does she?'

"Yes, Mr. Briefs, I do." The judge's tone was firm, with no room for argument.

"WHAT?" Vegeta's voice reverberated throughout the courtroom.

"I think it is a fitting sentence," the judge continued. "Perhaps, it will teach you the Christmas spirit—and better appreciate the hard work that Santas everywhere do during the holidays!"

"And what if I refuse?" Vegeta dared her.

Bulma and the attorneys looked at Vegeta, horrified, but the judge remained calm.

"Then, Mr. Briefs, you can spend thirty days in jail, instead, and miss Christmas with your family. Be Santa until Christmas, or go to jail—your choice."

Vegeta actually smiled, and he turned to the lead lawyer again. "So, what are the food and accommodations like in an Earthling jail?" The lawyer's jaw dropped, almost past his sagging neck, at his client's audacity.

Bulma smacked him hard on the back of his head. "You are NOT going to jail!" she fumed. She spoke quickly to the judge, "He _will_ be Santa, Your Honor, I promise you that!"

"WHAT?" Vegeta exclaimed again, but the lead lawyer affirmed Bulma's declaration. Before he could protest further, the judge slammed her gavel down.

It was done.

He, the Prince of Saiyans, the strongest warrior around (except of course, for that idiot, Kakarot) would be forced to don a tacky, outdated red suit and play Santa Claus.

He grumbled curses in several intergalactic languages, including his own, but then he sank back into his seat and calmed down a little.

_It could have been worse, I suppose. At least, it wasn't that stupid Easter Bunny I beat up!_


	4. Ch 4: How Do You Know That Santa Isn't R...

A/N: I apologize for keeping you all waiting this long. I was hoping to have it out before Christmas, but it didn't work out like I hoped. Hopefully, no one will mind a little belated Christmas cheer.

* * *

**Chapter Four: How Do You Know That Santa Isn't Real?**

"Are you sure that having that man here is a good idea?"

"It wasn't my choice, Stuckey. The court ordered it. Just try not to make the guy mad; if he causes any problems, tell me first. I'm supposed to send reports on how well he's doing." The manager sighed heavily, as he absently watched Stuckey, a chubby, middle-aged man, with balding red hair, struggle out of his red suit and coat. When the Santa suit was removed, only an old flannel shirt and worn, ragged jeans remained.

"That troll-doll should have been an elf, not Santa Claus," Stuckey grumbled. "I swear, if he causes any more trouble, I'll give it to him good!"

"Oh, really?"

Stuckey, and the manager turned around and gasped at seeing the infamous Vegeta Briefs standing in the stockroom doorway. The ill-fitting, too-large Santa suit did nothing to hide or improve Vegeta's heavy scowl and deadly glare. With his heavy eyebrows pushing down upon his eyes and cold expression, Vegeta resembled Santa Claus from Hell.

"Um…hey," Stuckey said hesitantly, immediately regretting his references to "troll-doll" and "elf". The new Santa was short, but with his build, apparent even through the Santa suit, he looked like one to be reckoned with.

"Who are you people?" Vegeta demanded to know.

The manager smiled nervously. "Well…this is Stuckey, and I'm Mr. Erots Reganam, the mall manager. Vegeta, Stuckey's just getting off, so you'll be taking his place. And, please…be nice to the kids."

Vegeta said nothing at first; he just looked around the room with his usual air of disdain. "So, where's the guy I replaced?"

Mr. Reganam gulped, pulling at his tie. "He won't be back for a while…he just went to rehab…for thirty days. So, maybe, he'll be recovered…by next year—"

"Hello, everyone!" a bright female voice chirped.

Mr. Reganam sighed again, and Stuckey groaned. "That girl's always too cheerful for her own good…you'd think she was a real elf, instead of just playing one," Stuckey grumbled.

"There's a female elf?" Vegeta asked, mildly curious.

"YES!" the feminine voice crowed happily, and at that moment, a tiny petite girl danced into the room, wearing a scarlet elf hat with a short, jade dress with jagged edges. Jingle bells dangled off of the points of her elfin shoes, as she twirled and spun around the room. Her short, flipped brown hair bobbed and floated with her movements, and her emerald eyes sparkled, as she leaptup to Vegeta.

"Hello, and welcome to our team! We are _so_ glad to have you!" she cried merrily.

Vegeta just stared at her, wide-eyed in disbelief. His jaw was grazing his chest at the sight of this overly cheery girl. "Who are you?" he gasped.

"I'm Perky!"

"Yes, I'm aware of that," he replied coolly. "Now who are you really?"

"I told you, I am Perky! Perky Fle, but you can just call me Perky!"

"Perky Fle?" Vegeta asked.

"Just take her word for it," Stuckey spoke stiffly, crossing his thick arms. "When she applied here, that was the only name she would give."

"I'm _so_ looking forward to working with you!" Perky cooed. "I know you may not have come here under the best of circumstances, but we still welcome you! I guarantee that once you play Santa, you'll love it! Right, Stuckey?"

"Yeah, sure," Stuckey replied, without meaning it much. His ears were still ringing from the earlier screams of a toddler who had been too frightened of Santa to be near him for long.

"Oh, come on, Stuckey, cheer up! It's Christmas, the best and happiest time of the year!" She took Vegeta's arm, intending to guide him out of the stockroom, but Vegeta shrugged her off.

"I can escort myself, thank you," he told her curtly. "Now where are you supposed to be?"

"With you, of course! I'll be your elf for the entire shift! I'm so excited! I love working with new people and cheering them up, and _you_, sir, look in need of some Christmas cheer!"

"I'll get my cheer later. Let's just go and get this over with."

"Get it over with? Working with the kids is the best part! I love working with kids, don't you? They are so innocent, wonderful, with such sweet hearts and hope, and all kinds of good things! They're so adorable!" And she danced and twirled out of the stockroom. "C'mon, Vegeta!"

As Vegeta grudgingly followed her out of the room, Stuckey suddenly grinned. He said to Mr. Reganam, "Ya know, boss, I think I just might stick around for a little while longer."

"Why, Stuckey?"

"Heh, think about it, boss. An overly happy elf-girl and a troll-doll Scrooge in a Santa suit…I think I just might stay and watch the fun."

Mr. Reganam sighed. As much as Perky's perpetual liveliness could annoy him, he felt a little sorry for her, being paired up with that possibly deadly Santa. He was certain, that after today, Perky would no longer be living up to her given name.

* * *

Perky ushered a small, skinny black boy towards the sullen Vegeta. "C'mon, Santa, _smile_!" she ordered. 

The photographer in front of the new Santa trembled, as he held his camera; he couldn't believe that the"troll-doll man" was actually on Santa's throne. He prayed for this day to be over with—and for him to survive this newcomer's arrival.

Vegeta smiled, but it was the kind of smile he used just before he sent an enemy off to the next dimension. "Hurry up," he told her, as she placed the boy onto his lap.

"Ha-ha-ha!" he bellowed, reluctantly trying to sound as "Santa" as he could.

"No," Perky whispered. "It's not ha-ha-ha, it's ho-ho-ho!"

"Ho-ho-ho!" Vegeta belted out with little enthusiasm. "What do you want for Christmas? And why do you have that swollen eye?"

"Santa…be nice," Perky said reproachfully.

"My name's Andrew, Santa. Can I talk to you?"

"You already are, so just spit it out."

"Santa…" Perky said again, but Vegeta ignored her.

"Okay..." Andrew began hesitantly. "Well, you see, Santa, there's this big bully named Butchie, who pounds on me every day and steals my lunch money! He says if I tell anyone, I'm dead!"

"Have you ever tried fighting him back, Andrew?

"No, I can't. My mommy says that fighting is wrong, and I should always turn the other cheek."

"Well, your mommy's…a MORON! Now, listen here, Andrew, the next time that this Butchie picks on you, I want you to go punch his face and his stomach hard! Make him bleed! And forget about fighting fair! Give it to him good! And if you don't, Santa won't bring you _any_ presents, got it? Santa does not bring gifts to weaklings!"

"Yes, sir!" Andrew replied, amazed.

Perky just stared at this new Santa in shock. She knew that she shouldn't have been too surprised, from what she had learned about him, but for him to give such advice to a child? With wide eyes, she shook her head.

"Now, what will you do when Butchie harasses you?"

"Give it to him good!"

"That's right! Make Santa proud," Vegeta told him. He then gave Andrew a shove. "Now get off of my lap, boy, there are other brats—er, kids, I have to finish with."

"I can't yet, Santa. You have to give me my candy cane, and we have our picture taken."

"WHAT?" Vegeta exclaimed, noticing the camera on him for the first time. "You mean that I have to have this time in my life _recorded_ on _film_ forever?"

"Of course you do!" Perky exclaimed. "The kids and parents want pictures. Okay, Fotoe, shoot!"

"No, wait!" Vegeta cried, but it was too late…

SNAP!

Vegeta was shown in the picture with his eyes and mouth wide open, as little Andrew, grinning, hugged his neck.

* * *

After about ten children with the usual requests for dolls, games, trucks, and action figures, Perky escorted a little pale boy, dressed in a dentist's costume, to Vegeta's lap. 

"Ho-ho-ho," Vegeta said mechanically, ignoring Perky's whispered urge to put more enthusiasm in his voice. "Why are you dressed in that stupid dentist costume?"

"Santa, please…" Perky pleaded, but Vegeta ignored her.

The boy looked around uncertainly, at both "Santa", and his mother, standing on the side. He whispered gravely to Santa, "I'm dressed like a dentist, because my mommy wants me to be one when I grow up."

"Do _you_ want to be a dentist?" Vegeta asked.

"No…" the boy replied in a low tone. Fortunately, his mother was paying him little attention, as she was chatting to her sister, the boy's aunt. Both of them would look over at the boy and Santa and smile now and then, but they were mostly busy discussing the mother's plans to send her son to the best dental school in the world.

Vegeta smirked, and a tiny spark of mischief grew within him. "Well, little boy, Santa's mommy wanted him to be a dentist too, but he told her to go screw herself, and he did what _he_ wanted to do. Now, because of that, he's famous, rich, works only _one_ day a year, and has his face on more memorabilia than that fool, Hercule Satan. So, tell Santa what you want to do besides being some stupid dentist."

"Well…I want to be a street fighter or a soldier or a pirate!" the boy crowed.

"Very good," Vegeta told him approvingly, his smile more genuine. "Any other plans?"

"Oh, yes! I also want to be a girl, with lots of pretty dresses and long, curly hair! Can you turn me into one for Christmas?"

SNAP!

In the developing picture, Vegeta's body and throne was shown tumbled over to one side of the floor.

* * *

Vegeta's eyes widened when Perky guided a little girl with blond hair and a pink dress onto his lap. He recognized the child as being one of Bra's classmates, Primrose, whose family, the Flowers, was as rich as the Briefs. 

Primrose had her hair styled and coiffed in a manner more suited for a twenty-year-old than a six-year-old, and behind her, on the floor, was a pink wagon with a stack of papers.

"I am Primrose Flowers, Santa, and you look like Bra's father," she said primly. "He's the one who beat up Santa a couple of weeks ago."

"Well, I can assure you, _Primrose_," Vegeta replied, "that Bra's father would never waste his time dressing up like this, unless he was forced. Now just tell me what you want for Christmas and get on with it!"

"You don't have to be so _rude_, Santa," Primrose asserted with a queen-like air. "Jeeves, hand me the first ten pages of my Christmas list from that wagon." A grim-faced butler, standing behind the wagon, did as his young mistress asked.

"TEN PAGES!" Vegeta yelled. "That stack of papers in your wagon is your _Christmas_ list?"

"Santa, be nice…" Perky ordered sweetly, even though she was wondering just how much Primrose Flowers wanted for Christmas.

"Of course!" Primrose insisted. "Now, Santa, I want all of these things _this_ year, not next year, or the year after that, but _this_ year! Understand?"

"I understand, little girl, that if you aren't a little _nicer_ to Santa, Bra's father won't let you come over to play with Bra anymore, and you'll receive _nothing_ for Christmas!"

The fierce expression on "Santa's" face, added to that last reprimand, was enough to humble Primrose, as she hurriedly read from the first page of her list.

"Well…I want a Patty Poopsey doll, three pink dresses, five red dresses, a box of chocolate chip cookie, Candy Apple dolls, a new Candy Apple Dream mansion, a little car for me, a vacation to Hawaii, in the biggest, most expensive hotel, and then I want a hundred hair bows in every color, new Mary Jane shoes, dozens of roses in my room, of every color, and…"

"What do you think I am—a department store?" Vegeta shouted. "Save the rest of your list for your letter! You're not the only child I have to bring stuff to, you know! Now get your candy cane and your picture, and let's go!"

Primrose shot up and jumped off of Vegeta's lap. "I will sue you, Santa, for treating me this way! My father's a lawyer, you know! Jeeves, let's go!"

"That's it!" Vegeta exclaimed, jumping out of his throne.

"Santa, no!" Perky insisted.

SNAP!

Vegeta was shown chasing after a suddenly frightened Primrose, who was seeking shelter behind her butler. Perky was holding him back, but having little luck.

* * *

_Oh no! Why did _he of _all people have to come today?_

Vegeta sensed the approaching ki of his rival, Kakarot—and also of Kakarot's four-year-old granddaughter, Pan, and her mother, Videl. Stupid Kakarot, picking _this_ mall to come to! He couldn't have that fool see him like this! Vegeta had just barely extracted a promise from his wife that she wouldn't tell the other Z-fighters of his humiliation.

_I must hide my ki—and fast!_

And so he did, but he still worried that it might already be too late. Ten minutes later, Kakarot, Videl, and Pan were standing in line. Pan was already waving happily to "Santa".

Beneath his false, curly beard, Vegeta involuntarily smiled. He liked Pan, even though he would never admit publicly to being fond of anyone in Kakarot's family. Pan was everything that Vegeta thought a little Saiyan girl, mixed-blood or not, should be: strong and courageous and in love with fighting. There were a few times that he had wished that he could convince Bra to train to become a warrior, but she had never been too physically strong to begin with, and her sweetness and unconditional (at least until now) love and acceptance of him had made up for her lack of interest in fighting.

Vegeta sighed. He would have liked to train Pan; he was certain that _he_ could have made her even stronger than she was now, but her warrior education was Kakarot and Gohan's responsibility, not his. Besides, he had enough to worry about these days, with Trunks becoming a bit lax in his training; the boy was now more interested in girls and partying than he was in fighting. He was becoming too much like his best friend, Goten. Goten especially needed to grow up and become more serious about life.

Not that Goten had always had the best role model in his father, who was sometimes a large child himself. And Kakarot was definitely that child today, waving excitedly at Santa, even calling his name.

This was going to be an even _longer_ day. Well, at least Pan was here. Vegeta could always ask her through "Santa" how well her training was going.

* * *

"Hey, Santa! How was your year?" Goku crowed happily, as he held Pan in his arms. "Pan and I have been good all year, haven't we?" 

"We sure have, Grandpa!" Pan exclaimed. "I can't wait to tell Santa what I want for Christmas!" She held her arms out to Santa, as Goku settled her into Santa's lap. Santa even put one arm around her waist, as Pan adoringly looked up to him.

"She has been good, Santa," Videl added.

Santa smirked. He said to Pan, "Are you still training hard, little one?"

"Oh, yes! Someday, I'm going to be even stronger than Grandpa!" Pan boasted.

"You just may, you just may! Now tell me what you want for Christmas."

"Well, I want a new fighting gi, and for you to make me even stronger!"

Santa chuckled. "Well, the fighting gi I can provide, but if you want to become even stronger, you will have to achieve that yourself. Just train hard and don't slack off, and you will become stronger. Santa wishes that his children were more like you."

"Really?" Pan exclaimed.

Santa nodded, and Pan looked closer at Santa's face. He looked very familiar…

"Don't I know you, Santa?" she asked.

"Everyone knows me!" Santa insisted.

"You look like someone I know, but I can't remember. It's been a looonnng time since I've seen him. But Grandpa told me he was really strong and brave and wanted to become even stronger than him. Mommy and Grandma says he does yell a lot and isn't always nice, but Grandpa thinks he's great! Goten told me he used to be a prince—a prince of all the Saiyans."

Santa laughed. "He _still_ is the prince of all the Saiyans."

A small smile formed onto Goku's face. "You know, Santa, she's right...you do look like someone we know very well...in fact, I thought I just sensed his ki earlier..." He didn't notice the panicked expression on Santa's face.

"Yes, you _do_ look familiar, Santa," Videl admitted. "In fact you almost look like—"

"Hey, Santa!" a little boy shouted behind Pan and Goku. "Hurry up! I want my turn!"

"Yeah, c'mon, Santa, please!" the other children added.

Santa grumbled several unintelligible curses in an unknown language. He then yelled to the other children, "Santa does not bring presents to greedy, impatient children, understand?"

The lady elf besides him whispered, "Santa, be nice…you must be patient with the children…"

"Um, Pan, perhaps you should finish telling him what you want," Goku told his granddaughter.

"Well, I told him all I wanted, really, Grandpa, except maybe a Patty Poopsey doll—it'd be cool to have doll that farts!"

Santa groaned, but he murmured a promise to see what he could for her, handed her a candy cane, and guided her off of his lap after their picture.

"Mommy, I have to go pee," Pan insisted.

"Alright, sweetheart," Videl told her. "Goku, we'll be right back, okay?"

"Sure thing! You both take your time!"

"Alright, next!" Santa yelled after Videl and Pan left.

"Oh, boy, _my_ turn!" Goku shouted, jumping up and down.

"WHAT?" Santa hollered. He snapped at Goku, "Aren't you a little _old_ for this?"

"No way!" Goku insisted, as he bounded into Santa's unwilling lap. "No one is _ever_ too old for Santa!" he cried, not noticing the pain he had caused Santa when he had crashed onto him.

"Santa would like to differ," Santa grumbled, but Goku was so excited that he didn't pay any attention.

"Let's see…well, I don't really have _that_ long of list, Santa, so let's say…I want lots of food, of course, especially turkey, sake, rice, and shrimp…especially that really good shrimp that Chichi makes on my birthday. I also like chocolate cake, ice cream of all flavors, fish, snappers, crab, and chicken, and cheese of any kind, and any other cake is fine, just as long as it's not fruitcake because that stuff is awful. You can give that to others. Oh, and can you bring Chichi a new set of pots and pans and lots of nice dishes, because Goten and I accidentally broke all of them when we were wrestling in the kitchen…" He continued his "not too long" list.

"C'mon, old man!" a little girl cried from behind Goku. "Get off his lap; you're too old to see Santa!"

"Yeah, that's right!" an older boy exclaimed. "Santa sees kids, not grownups! Get lost and let us see him!"

"I won't be too much longer, I promise!" Goku insisted to them. He turned to Santa and added, "Oh yeah, and I forgot to mention that I would love a year's supply of pizza, and also some ramen noodles, soy sauce, ham, steaks, and…"

Santa glared darkly at Goku, hoping to discourage him from continuing, but Goku, who genuinely liked Santa, was oblivious, as he continued to babble:

"…A new fighting gi would be nice, and if you could send me someone strong to fight, I'd appreciate it. It's been a long time since I had a really strong opponent to take on."

"Oh, I can give you a strong opponent to fight right now, Kakarot," Santa said in an even, yet menacing tone.

"Really?" Goku asked slowly, excited, but at the same time, unnerved by Santa's manner. "Oh, wait, why did you call me Kakarot? Only Vegeta calls me that. Oh, but before you give me my strong opponent to fight, may I have my candy cane? I'm awfully hungry."

Santa abruptly shoved Goku off of his lap. "Eat this!" he shouted, as he belted Goku in his mouth.

"Ow!" Goku cried out. "Why did you do that?"

"Because you're _annoying_! Santa does not let grown men sit on his lap, got it? Now go home and grow up!"

Goku's face was downcast. "Sure thing, Santa. I'm sorry, if I bothered you." And he turned on his heel and walked away towards the ladies' restrooms to wait for Videl and Pan.

"C'mon, Santa!" the other kids exclaimed.

"Fine!" Santa snapped. "Hurry up!"

A pair of rowdy twin boys followed soon after.

* * *

"Santa, was that really necessary what you did to that poor man?" 

"Will you stop calling me _Santa_? I am _Vegeta_ now, got that? My shift is over! And I know that fool personally; he should be punched every now and then. Foolish man, believing that Santa still exists…" Vegeta grumbled, as he pulled his leather jacket over his usual bodysuit.

"Is he so foolish?" Perky challenged him, with her hands on her tiny waist. "What is so wrong with a grownup believing in Santa?"

"Because grownups should know better, you twit! Santa is not real, and if fools like that idiot who sat on my lap earlier can't see that…well, they're truly mentally challenged! It's bad enough that my own daughter still thinks he's real, and that she is still convinced that I beat the crap out of the real thing!"

"She's only six, Santa—I mean, Vegeta," Perky said sympathetically. "She'll forgive you in time, I promise. But you know what I think would help? If she saw you apologizing to Santa, then maybe—"

"Oh, you mean apologize to that drunken fool I beat up? Oh, yes, Perky, a wonderful idea—me dragging my little girl down to some 'clinic' among a bunch of people who can't control their alcohol intake to say sorry to some lout who insulted both her and her mother! That bastard implied that he would like to have my wife for Christmas, and it wouldn't have surprised me, if he had included my daughter in the bargain!"

Perky reflected, "Yes, I do have to admit that Rodney wasn't the nicest of Santas, but your daughter feels that you beat up her hero. Hasn't there ever been anyone that you looked up to?"

"Well, there was my father…and the Dark Saiyan," Vegeta admitted, as he pulled on his boots. He didn't know why he was bothering to answer her, an absurd little girl still dressed in her elf costume. Didn't she have any other clothes? That skimpy outfit she wore wouldn't protect her from the elements.

"The Dark Saiyan?" Perky asked, genuinely intrigued, as she cupped her soft, rosy cheek.

Vegeta found himself telling her about his Saiyan hero and his exploits, in brief, yet unforgettable words. Strangely enough, she didn't mock him or reproach him. She paid full attention to him and gave a sympathetic nod every now and then. She didn't even seem to blink or flinch when he had alluded to being a former intergalactic terrorist.

"I was inspired by him," Vegeta admitted after finishing his stories. "He was a real hero, not like Santa, that faker in a red suit."

"And how do you know that Santa isn't real?" Perky asked again.

"How do _you_ know that he _is_?" Vegeta demanded to know. "Have you ever seen the real one—not those fools that pose as him every year?"

Perky merely smiled gently. "You just have to believe, Vegeta. You just _know_ that he is there…even, if you can't always see him. You can't see the wind, or see perfume, but you know that both exist, don't you?"

Vegeta did not answer her question. Instead he said, "Don't tell me that you truly believe that Santa exists? I can understand my daughter thinking so, but you're older, so you should know better."

"I _do_ know better," Perky replied. But then suddenly, her smile faded a little, and she sighed, "I just wish I could convince everyone else here otherwise…that Santa is not just a bunch of humans who only pretend to be him and wear copies of his suit to make money."

"Perky, if that is your real name," Vegeta told her bluntly, "you are worse than that grown man—Kakarot—who sat on my lap a while ago. I cannot believe that grownups like you two actually believe in that Christmas clown!"

"Perhaps we know something that you don't," Perky insisted, looking at him intently. "Who do you think helps with Christmas miracles all the time?"

"A bunch of soft-hearted fools who wear themselves out for people who can't do for themselves, my wife and Kakarot, usually being among them. But enough of this; I have a family to go home to, even though only my wife is civil. My children are still behaving, as if I murdered the real Santa. All I did was beat up some faker!"

"They are embarrassed and hurt by your actions, Vegeta. You must try to see things from their point of view. Your daughter must still be miserable, poor thing, thinking that Santa won't have anything to do with her family. Vegeta, one of the first things that you _must_ do is assure her that isn't true."

"Why? Santa doesn't exist! She will still get everything that she wants for Christmas! In fact, if my wife hadn't forbidden it, I would have already told her that Santa isn't real."

"NO! You mustn't tell her that!" Perky cried in horror.

"Keep that scanty dress of yours on; I'm not—for now. Besides, even if I do later, it's none of your business. Now stop advising me on my family affairs; you are merely some girl paid to pose as an elf, nothing more. Now, I'm leaving, so I can figure out how to get my daughter to at least talk to me again. Good night!" And with that, Vegeta stormed out of the stockroom.

After he left, Perky sank into a chair and plunged her pointed chin into her tiny hands. "Oh no…poor little girl…and her father! How can I get through to him?"

Shivering, she arose, and, holding back tears, she tottered to her locker.


	5. Ch 5: Santa Knows Everything

**Chapter Five: "Santa Knows Everything…"**

"Goku, now tell me the truth—what _really_ happened to your mouth?"

"Chichi, I _told_ you! Santa Claus punched me in the mouth after I sat on his lap! And you know what's really weird? He called me Kakarot; I thought only Vegeta called me that."

Chichi, perplexed, looked at her husband. "He called you _Kakarot_?"

Goku nodded, as he shoveled a fourth bowlful of rice into his mouth. He had been glum all that day, feeling bad that he had upset Santa. Chichi hadn't held much sympathy; she thought that a grown man like Goku had no business sitting on Santa's lap in the first place.

"Hey, do you think…" Chichi murmured, but then shook her head. "Nah, no way…he would never…"

"Who would never do what, Chichi?"

Chichi arose from the dinner table and walked past Goten's empty seat; Goten was out on a date. "I have to make a call; go ahead and finish."

"Call who?" Goku asked with his mouth full.

"Bulma. She hasn't said much about what her husband's been up to lately…"

* * *

Vegeta was sitting upon his Santa throne, with a more somber Perky by his side when a stern-looking black woman, dressed in scarlet Sunday best, marched up to his throne during a rare slow period. The little boy behind her was prancing along and grinning. Vegeta emitted a soft groan, for the boy looked very familiar.

"Andrew?" he asked.

"Hiya, Santa!" Andrew chirped. "I took your advice yesterday—and guess what? Butchie will _never_ pick on me again!"

Vegeta grinned and clapped his hands together. "Good boy!"

The woman crossed her arms and glared at "Santa". "Oh, yes, Santa, he was good alright—so good that he put Butchie in the hospital for a week! Now little Andrew here is suspended from school until New Year's.'

"So I get an extra week of vacation!" Andrew whooped. But then his voice lowered and he whispered, "Even though Mommy says I'm grounded until Christmas Eve."

"You grounded this boy for defending himself?" Vegeta demanded to know from Andrew's mother.

"I told him not to get into fights and turn the other cheek—and look who tells him to do otherwise—Santa himself! I thought that _Santa_ would tell my son to do the right thing!"

"I did, woman," Vegeta snapped from beneath his snowy beard. "Do you want your son to grow up to be a coward and a weakling? You should be proud of him for standing up for himself! And what sort of school forbids children to fight—I never understood Earthling schools—"

"_Earthling_ schools?" the mother asked, puzzled.

Just then, Perky intervened. "Look, ma'am, Santa didn't go to an ordinary school—it wasn't a school for humans. Santa may not have given the best advice, but he told Andrew to do what he did, well, because Santa was so upset about what was happening to this poor child. He didn't mean any harm, and Andrew can do the right thing by apologizing to Butchie—and perhaps you and this Butchie's mother should get together and talk. Santa was just trying to help. He just wanted Andrew to be safe, that's all. No child should have to go through what Andrew did—being afraid to go to school every day."

The mother looked at Perky thoughtfully. "Perhaps, you're right. Andrew hasn't been happy lately. I'll talk more to his teacher and Butchie's mother." She bent down towards Andrew and took his chin into her hand. "Andrew, it's going to be alright, but no more fights…you tell me or a teacher from now on, got it?"

Andrew nodded, somewhat relieved. "Yes, Mommy." He ran up to "Santa" and hugged his neck, nearly strangling him. "Thanks, Santa!"

"Santa" smirked, and Andrew's mother sighed.

"Um…Santa?" Andrew asked timidly.

"Yessss," Vegeta said as patiently as possible.

"Am I still on your 'nice' list?"

Vegeta chuckled. "Of course you are! As long as you don't _ever_ let anyone push you around again!"

"Without getting into fights," Andrew's mother added sternly, and this time it was Vegeta's turn to sigh. He never understood why so many human mothers had problems with their children learning fighting skills. No wonder Earth was almost always in trouble.

* * *

The end of "Santa's" line finally came, and it was almost time for Vegeta's lunch hour. After Perky left for a coffee break (really a hot chocolate break, since she never drank coffee), Vegeta groaned when the last two children came bounding towards him. He recognized them immediately as Henry and Janey, the two children who had witnessed him assaulting the previous Santa.

"Look, Janey, I'm going to prove to you once and for all that Santa isn't _real_!" Henry insisted.

"He is real!" Janey cried, pouting, crossing her small white arms and glaring.

"He's a faker, like all of them, and I'll show you!"

Vegeta growled, very un-Santa-like.

"And how do you intend to prove that I'm a fake, little boy?" he asked menacingly.

His icy expression sent a shiver down Henry's spine, and Henry gulped. But then, he slowly regained his bravado. After all, if Santa was really a fake, he couldn't do anything to stop him, because Santa would get fired. He then grinned.

"Easy!" Henry insisted, as he leapt into Santa's lap. Before Vegeta could react, Henry yanked his beard off in one triumphant flourish. Janey screamed.

"See, I _told_ you he wasn't real! Look at his fake beard!"

"I'll show you fake, you little brat!" Vegeta roared, grabbing Henry and shoving him facedown onto his lap. Before Janey's astonished eyes, he pulled down Henry's pants. "I'm going to give you the spanking that your parents never gave you!"

"No, please! I'm sorry!" Henry bawled.

"Oh, you'll be sorry alright when I—"

"SANTA, NO!"

And to Vegeta's shock, Perky dashed past Janey and a large Styrofoam cup tumbled from her drink tray. The cup twirled once through the air, and the already loose lid popped off. A shower of orange juice poured down upon Vegeta and Henry.

"Eeew! Yucky!" Henry exclaimed.

"Santa, little boy, I am so sorry!" Perky cried.

Henry decided to make good his escape from Santa's lap. "Yeah, that's right, brat! You better get the hell out of here, before I send you into the next dimension!" Vegeta shouted.

Henry fled on his scampering little feet, not even bothering to take his sister with him. Janey just watched him run away, and then she burst into sobs. She cried loud and hard, straining Vegeta's sensitive ears.

Perky abandoned Vegeta for now and scooped the howling child into her arms. "Little one, please don't cry."

"But Henry made Santa mad, and now Santa hates us!" Janey wailed.

Perky put her down on the floor. "No, he doesn't, little one. Please wait here, okay?" Janey weakly nodded, as Perky hurried back to Santa.

"Santa," Perky whispered in an irritated and sticky Vegeta's ear. "I know you are mad at Henry, but his sister did nothing wrong. Please say something to make her feel better."

"I'm no good at comforting," he hissed. "It's better to send her away."

"Santa." Perky's voice held a note of rebuke. "Think about this child…what if this was _Bra_? What would you say to Bra in this situation? Or what would you want _Santa_ to say to her, if you believed he was real?"

Vegeta reluctantly turned his head towards Janey, who was softly sobbing. He saw those large, frightened eyes, clear and blue as his daughter's. She was still shaking in her black patent Mary Jane shoes.

"Little girl, come here." His voice was strangely softer, as he beckoned her with his finger.

Janey shook her head, but Perky came to her and escorted her slowly towards Santa. "It is alright, little one."

Janey stood before Santa, but she would not climb into his lap. "What is your name, child?" Vegeta asked quietly.

She whispered it, and "Santa" said gravely, "You do not need to fear me, Janey."

"You were going to spank Henry!"

"Yes, I was. I allowed myself to lose control of my temper. Santa has had much on his mind lately, and what Henry did only made him more upset." Vegeta looked at Janey and saw Bra's face, Bra's fear. Janey couldn't have been that much older.

"Don't cry any more," he told her gruffly, yet kindly. "You and that brother of yours will still be on my good list. And Janey…"

"Ye-Yes, Santa?"

"Don't let your brother push you around; you're smarter than he is, alright?"

Janey nodded, and then Vegeta handed her a candy cane. She hesitantly took it and tottered forward. She then reached into a tiny pocket on her dress and pulled out a clumsily wrapped square package.

"Here, Santa," she whispered. "Merry Christmas."

"Janey!"

"That's Mommy; I have to go now. Don't forget to use this after you eat your milk and cookies! Bye-bye!" And Janey scurried away.

"Little girl, wait!" Vegeta called, but Janey was gone.

"Open your gift, Santa," Perky encouraged him. "Oh, this is exciting! It's not often children give Santa presents!"

Vegeta looked at the strange offering suspiciously, and then he slowly unwrapped it. The present, wrapped in plain red paper, was a handkerchief embroidered with Christmas trees and bows. In the middle were the words, "I LOVE YOU, SANTA! MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

The embroidery was amateurish; it was mostly likely Janey's own work, but the effort gained a rare smile from "Santa".

"Awww, how sweet!" Perky cooed. Vegeta regained his composure and glared at her.

* * *

"_I like to poop; I like to fart…passing gas is my favorite art. It is normal; it is natural to poop in the potty…"_

Bra sank deeper into her mother soft armchair recliner, watching the TV commercial for Patty Poopsey. She'd never have a Patty Poopsey doll now, unlike the blond-haired, blue-eyed cherub with the bouncy curls.

"Daddy, you bought Patty Poopsey for me! Thank you! I love you!"

"I love you too, pumpkin-pie."

"Okay, Patty Poopsey!" the angelic little girl chirped. "It's time to go potty!" Delightedly, she plopped the plastic doll onto the little pink, plastic toilet that had came with her.

"BRRIPP!" Sounds of fake plastic feces plopped into the toy toilet.

"Yay!" both the little blond girl and her father cheered. The child kissed Patty Poopsey and told her how proud she was of her. Then the father kissed his daughter, as the theme song played again…

"…_It is normal; it is natural to poop in the potty! If I go in my pants, I'll make an oopsey! Gotta go right now; that's why I'm Patty Poopsey!"_

Tears brimmed from Bra's cobalt eyes, as the commercial ended. She hugged herself tightly, letting her tears wet her dress. Her heart ached, and this time, it wasn't because she believed that she would never have Patty Poopsey.

"Daddy…Santa…"

* * *

"I like your jacket, Santa," a tiny black girl with numerous braids chirped.

Vegeta grinned. "Why thank you, little girl." An evil smirk followed when he heard one mother whisper to another:

"Since when does Santa wear a black leather jacket?"

Behind them, a sexily dressed woman, at the end of the line with her child, only smiled, while she ushered her little boy towards Vegeta's lap. "Now hurry up, Tommy, and tell Santa what you want 'cause Mommy needs to talk to him, okay?"

"Sure thing, Mommy!" Tommy piped.

Vegeta was only mildly curious as to what Tommy's mother wanted. She winked at him and ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. She even adjusted the collar of her tight blouse, lowering it to show him a bit of deep cleavage. She slithered her hand along her thighs, which were only wrapped in a tight, neon-green mini-skirt.

Vegeta tried his best to ignore her, as he half-listened to Tommy's generic requests: video games and a bicycle. Finally, Tommy's mother ushered her son off of Santa's lap.

Vegeta realized too late that he and the mother were alone, as the woman glided gracefully into his lap. "Woman, get off of me immediately!" he hissed.

"Oh, come now, Santa," the mother crooned, running her fingers along his jaw. "I'm sure you get looonely being away from Mrs. Claus!"

Vegeta allowed himself a half-smirk. "Oh, trust me, I'm _never_ away from Mrs. Claus for too long."

She fluffed her full, silken red mane back, deliberately allowing the tresses to brush against Vegeta's face. She then pressed her plentiful bosom against his chest, as she ran her fingers along the white beard.

She whispered, "I can be your Mrs. Claus for today, if you like." She licked her lips again. "I love your new jacket. You should wear it all the time."

Vegeta slid his hand along her satiny arm, and he leaned his mouth to her ear. A grin slid across his face, as the woman cuddled further against him.

"_You_ are what I want for Christmas, Santa, so whisper sweet holiday nothings in my ear," she cooed.

Vegeta chuckled, as he took her chin into his hands.

"Go on, Santa, plenty of sweet nothings will do."

Vegeta then complied with her request:

"Nothing, nothing, nothing—NOTHING!" His playful whisper rose to a roar. "That's what you are to me, woman, _nothing_! I have my _own_ Mrs. Claus, and while she can be loudmouthed and bossy, she is the _only_ Mrs. Claus that I will _ever_ want!"

"You son of a bitc—" The woman would have continued, had it not been for Vegeta clamping his hand over her mouth.

"And furthermore," he told her more calmly. "_My_ Mrs. Claus's chest wasn't paid for."

"Bastard!"

Vegeta abruptly shoved her off of his lap. "Leave now," he ordered her.

The mother stormed off in search of her child. Vegeta groaned long and loud, while not too far away from him, just coming back from the restroom, Perky smiled, even though she felt she shouldn't.

* * *

"C'mon, Bulma, Goku would find this hilarious!"

"No, Chichi, I promised Vegeta that I wouldn't tell any of the other fighters. That didn't include you, which is why I'm telling you."

"So, Goku actually sat on—"

"Yes, Chichi! But you can't tell Goku or _anyone_, okay 'cause Vegeta would have a stroke."

"But isn't he going to be suspicious because 'Santa' called him Kakarot?"

"Just remind him that Santa knows everything; he'll believe it."

* * *

After the mall closed for the evening, Vegeta sighed long and deep, as he stepped out into the gently falling snow. He would have preferred to fly home, despite the cold, but Bulma had insisted that he take his car to work every day, so he wouldn't draw too much attention to himself.

It had been a long two days, and only twelve days remained until Christmas Eve, and then his ordeal would _finally_ be over. When had he become so weak, so tame that he would actually obey _human_ authority and allow himself to be forced to wear that hideous red velvet concoction? He growled in a low tone. His family had made him that way. Bulma, Trunks, and his little Bra.

Vegeta's heart suddenly felt heavy, and he felt a strange dab of moisture prick his eye. He wished he knew what he could do to win back Bra's affection? She no longer smiled, rarely played with her toys, or even watched television. She spent long hours at home staring out her window with her chin in her tiny hands.

Her playmates had recently stopped teasing her about her father's actions and had wanted to come over to Capsule Corp. again. But Bra always declined their offers; she hadn't had a visitor in two weeks. Her mother was seriously thinking of taking her to a therapist.

Vegeta looked up into the gray, thick skies, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Perky standing near the bus stop, still wearing her scanty elf dress. He shook his head at this; the girl had less sense than Kakarot.

He slid off his black, leather jacket; Mr. Reganam had rebuked him earlier for wearing it, but he had brushed his boss off. He certainly wasn't wearing that Santa jacket, after that orange juice had been spilled on it.

He treaded through the ever-increasing snow towards Perky, who was still waiting for her bus. She looked sober and wistful, but strangely enough, she wasn't shivering or showing any other signs that she was cold. Still, Vegeta draped the jacket around her shoulders. Perky took around and looked at him gratefully.

"Why are you out here with no coat? Don't you _ever_ take off that silly elf dress?"

"Sometimes," Perky said, now with a smile, dusting the snow off of her sugar-brown bob. She drew Vegeta's jacket around her shoulders, even though she wasn't cold at all.

"Do you have any other clothes?" Vegeta asked her, half-annoyed.

"Of course! But this is what I like to wear best! This is what I belong in!" Perky chirped. "Oh, look, Vegeta, isn't the falling snow just _beautiful_?"

"I suppose," Vegeta grunted. "Do you live far from here?"

"Not too far at all!"

"Where do you live?"

"In a boarding house about twelve blocks from here."

Vegeta bit his lip, mumbling under his breath. He took her arm. "C'mon, I'll take you home."

"Oh, I don't want to be a bother, but thank you anyway!" Perky insisted.

"Listen," Vegeta told her edgily. "This is not a safe place to be at night, particularly for a girl dressed as skimpily as you are. I'm surprised you haven't been mugged or worse. Or have you?"

Perky was suddenly quiet. "I was pick-pocketed a few days ago; I just had enough money left for bus fare. But I was not harmed, and that poor fellow who--"

Vegeta was not interested in hearing any sympathy for the man who had robbed her. "Save your money and come with me." He could not understand how she could still be so cheerful after what had happened.

"Vegeta, I—"

"I'm not leaving until you agree. Let's go!"

Suddenly a black-and-white bus pulled in front of the bus stop.

"My bus!" Perky cried.

He glared at her, crossing his arms. Perky felt a shiver go through her spine, even though she knew Vegeta would not harm her.

Several minutes passed, as passengers stepped off of the bus.

Then the bus pulled away from its stop. While it was leaving, a short Saiyan and a tiny elf-girl were walking towards the mall parking lot.


	6. Ch 6: Those Who Believe In Santa

**Chapter Six: "Those Who Believe In Santa…"**

"RINNNG!"

Vegeta sighed, as he answered his cell-phone. "Yes?" he asked curtly.

Bulma's voice answered, "I need you to come home as soon as possible. We're having guests. Goku just teleported himself and his family to our house."

"Good for them."

"Vegeta!"

"Oh, alright! But I need to drop off a co-worker at her place first."

"Just ask, if she'd like to join us. Dinner's been ready for an hour. Everyone's waiting for you."

Vegeta asked Perky reluctantly, "Do you wish to join us for—"

"Why I'd love to!" Perky enthused. "Thank you!"

"Does that answer your question?" Vegeta wanted to know.

Bulma grunted a reply and hung up.

"Your wife must be such a lovely woman!" Perky burbled, hugging herself with glee.

"Then you really haven't met her yet," Vegeta remarked smartly.

"That's not very nice! She's your wife!" Perky scolded.

Vegeta smirked.

"I bet deep down you really love and wonder what you would do without her, wouldn't you?"

"I can think of a million things I could do without her," Vegeta retorted, not willing to admit his "weakness" for his wife to anyone.

"I wish _I_ had a husband! Maybe I will someday!"

"And maybe you'll actually get around to buying a coat," Vegeta grumbled, as he turned down the heat in the now overly warm car. He looked over at his passenger, who was hugging herself tighter and smiling, as if she had won a lottery. "Or is it because you can't afford one?"

"Oh, I can, but I _never_ get cold. I love the snow and chills!"

"A skinny human like you never get cold? Are you really an alien? Tell the truth! Who are you, really?"

Perky merely smiled and winked. "_You_ tell _me_."

"I don't think you'd want me to do that."

"Well," Perky said brightly. "Then let me tell you what I think you think of me. You think that I'm some silly, poor little girl who doesn't have the good sense to dress warmly for the cold and who is always too cheerful, _annoyingly_ so, I believe?"

"So you're a mind-reader, eh?" Vegeta slowed down his driving and pressed several buttons to turn the car to aircar mode, so the car would fly. "What exactly do you do outside of that penny-ante little elf job of yours?"

"What I do with you every day—love people, cheer them up, spread holiday joy! I try to keep Christmas going all through the year. I help others, and I help spread Santa's message of joy, peace, and goodwill towards everyone."

"Yes, I know that you're the jolly little elf—but what _are_ you really?"

"I told you! Vegeta, unlike with you and Stuckey, _my_ job doesn't end when I punch the time clock. My work continues all day and all yearlong! I live to bring joy to people, no matter what season it is!"

Vegeta fiddled with the radio controls, trying to find a decent radio station that actually _wasn't_ playing Christmas music, but he was not succeeding. He turned to one radio station that belted loudly, "_It's a marshmallow world in the winter…"_

"Oh, don't change it, please!" Perky exclaimed. "I _love_ this Christmas song!" Swaying her head back and forth, she begin to sing vociferously with the radio, "_When the snow comes to cover the ground/ It's the time for play, it's a whipped cream day/ I wait for it the whole year round…_"

"Alright! I get it! You love this song! But sing it in your head!"

"Oh, c'mon, Vegeta, sing with me! In the car is one of the _best_ times to sing Christmas carols! C'mon!" And she continued, unfortunately off-key, "_…The world is your snowball just for a song/ Get out and roll it along—_"

"Enough!"

Stopping reluctantly, Perky sighed. "Some mortals just don't know how to appreciate good music—"

"_Mortals?_" Vegeta asked.

Perky covered her mouth in horror, as if she had said a naughty word. "Oh, I'm sorry; I guess I don't always think of myself as being like everyone else. Not above anyone, mind you, but just…different…"

"Yes, I certainly agree you're not like anyone else…except for maybe that moron, Kakarot!"

"I'd love to meet him! He sounds like he'd be a lot of fun! It's not every day I meet a grownup who believes in Santa!"

"Yes," Vegeta told wryly, "there's no one like Kakarot."

"Tell me more about him!"

"WHAT? Don't tell me you have a crush on him, or some foolish notion like that! He's already married with two kids, and his wife's actually more dangerous than he is. Her words alone are sharper than a sword!"

"But I bet she thinks the world of him and would do anything for him, wouldn't she?"

"I guess," Vegeta replied, not caring one way or another, as he turned the wheel.

"Well, would you _please_ tell me more about him?"

"Fine, fine, I will, if you promise not to sing any more Christmas songs until we get to my house!" Vegeta growled, as he stopped at a red traffic light that was resting upon a long pole from the ground. The falling snow almost concealed the scarlet glow.

Perky halfheartedly prevented herself from singing along with the radio to another one of her favorite Christmas songs, _Snow_ by Berlin Irving. But her curiosity caught the best of her, and she fell silent, as Vegeta spoke:

"Kakarot is like me, a Saiyan, and unfortunately, more powerful than I. Ever since he first defeated me in battle, I've wanted to become stronger than him. It was my goal, and I never achieved it. Yes, he is the strongest warrior on this planet, possibly the entire universe, but he can be a dimwit. Of course, considering that he suffered brain damage as a child, that can't be helped too much. He acts more human than Saiyan, except in battle."

"Sounds like there's more to him than what you're saying."

"You can meet him and decide for yourself what you think. But let me ask you this: you don't think it's bizarre to be around a man who has openly admitted to you that he is an alien prince and a former assassin?"

Running her slender fingers through her drying hair, Perky smiled benevolently. "No, I don't, and I believe you. I also believe that you're not as bad as you try to make yourself appear to be."

"Hah, that's only because I don't want to go back to jail, or get kicked out of my bed again!"

"Still trying to be the tough guy, eh?"

"I _am_ the tough guy!" He turned to her and narrowed his eyes. "Now, going off-subject, you never did answer my question. Just who are _you_? Where did you come from?"

Perky beamed, unfazed. "From a happy, snowy land where Christmas is _truly_ all through the year! Where everyone loves each other and helps each other! We work together to bring joy and happiness to everyone around the world—_all year round_!"

"And just where is this happy, snowy land?"

Perky smiled mysteriously. "Only those who believe in Santa can find it."

Vegeta slapped his head. "Stop screwing with me! You will _never_ convince me that the fool exists!"

She just shook her head, still smiling. "Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta. What _must_ I do to convince you?"

With a contemptuous laugh, Vegeta crossed his arms and remarked triumphantly:

"Make the man come to my home, and tell my daughter in person that I didn't beat the real thing."

* * *

"Wow, Vegeta, who's the babe?" 

Vegeta glowered at Goten, who had kept his eyes glued to Perky, ever since she had walked into Capsule Corp. Within the first ten minutes of her arrival, she had everyone singing:

"_You better watch out/ You better not cry/ You better not pout/ I'm tellin' you why…"_

"That _babe_ is just some silly little girl who likes to play an elf all year round. Don't get any ideas; it's unlikely you'll see her again after tonight."

"How disappointing," Goten muttered. But then, he grinned. "Ah, well, might as well make use of the time I have. 'Scuse me." And he strolled grandly into the living room, where Perky had just started a spirited game of "Christmas Charades".

She was crouched on the floor covered by a brown velvet blanket. Slowly and carefully, she piled pieces of beaded fake fruit onto her body. Goten jumped up and shouted:

"I get it! You're a fruitcake!"

Vegeta, who had followed behind him, fully agreed with that statement—much more than Goten would ever know.

Perky burst from her blanket and fruit happily and cried, "You're right!" As the other guests cheered, she grinned at Goten. "What's your name?"

Goten told her, as he strutted her way. Perky asked him, "So, Goten, do you believe in Santa?"

Goten laughed, almost wickedly. "For you, I'll believe in anything!"

Some of the guests groaned. Vegeta grumbled under his breath and shook his head.

"I believe in Santa!" Goku shouted jubilantly. But then his face fell. "Well, I wish I hadn't made him mad that day…hey, weren't you there when I sat in his lap?"

"Yes, I was," Perky replied. She put her hand on Goku's shoulder. "Don't feel bad, Goku. Santa's sorry. He was just having an off day. But he's really happy that you still believe in him. He wishes more grownups would believe in him."

"Yeah, so do I," Goku admitted, feeling much better. "I keep trying to tell Chichi and the boys that he's real, but they don't believe me. Well, Goten _used_ to believe that Santa was real, but…ah, I wish there was…a way to convince everyone."

"So do I," Perky sighed.

Chichi yelled with clenched fists, "Don't encourage him!" Perky pulled back from her and flinched, amazed.

"Chichi, come on!" Goku laughed good-naturedly. "Of course Santa is real! Would you like to go to Santa's place with me, so I can show you?"

"Just tell me, Goku! What _proof_ do you have that Santa is real?"

Goku grinned. "I don't need proof. I actually met him!"

"Oh, right, Goku!" Chichi scoffed. "I suppose you sat on his lap at some other mall when you were a kid. You didn't even get to a mall until you were in your teens!"

"Chichi, I really did meet him," Goku insisted seriously. "I was traveling around the world gathering Dragonballs…just after I left Penguin Village, and I saw his sleigh and reindeer stuck in a bunch of trees. He saw me and begged me for help as I rode on Kintoun, so I stopped and disentangled his sleigh and reindeer. He was amazed by how strong I was then, and he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told him I only wanted three things: lots of good food, strong opponents to fight, and to be the strongest myself." Goku smiled, almost wistfully. "He just laughed and ruffled my hair, telling me he'd see that I had all the food I wanted, but that the strong opponents and great strength would come to me without his help. He said that he couldn't help make me stronger, that I had to do that part myself. Then he gave me a great big bag of candy and said he'd see me at Christmas and flew away. Then I saw him again when—"

"Dad!" Goten groaned. "Will you please stop with the Santa stories? We're too old for fairytales now!"

"Goku, he's right," Chichi snapped. "Those stories were cute when you first told them, but you should know better by now."

Perky merely smiled and rested her tiny hand on Goku's bicep. "Well, _I_ believe him!" Goku beamed.

Before Chichi could start another tantrum, Bulma asked, "Where are you from, Perky?"

"From a wonderful, snowy land where Christmas exists all through the year!"

"Yes, you told me that!" Vegeta shouted. "Now exactly _where_ is this land?"

"Far up above the Earth," Perky crooned. "And only those who believe in Santa can find it."

"Yay!" Goku cried. "Then that means _I_ can go there to visit sometime!"

"Oh no you won't, Goku," Chichi scolded him. "You promised me that you would find a job."

"Actually, Chichi, I have plans for a job."

"Really?" Chichi asked hopefully. "What are they?"

"I can work for Santa in his workshop!"

Chichi flopped over backwards.

* * *

Vegeta watched Bra slowly descend the stairs, as the other partygoers reveled, ate, and drank. Bulma was ascending the stairs towards her daughter. 

"C'mon, Bra, join us!" Bulma urged with a hopeful smile.

"No thanks, Mommy. I'm writing a letter to Santa. I just came down for some milk."

"Oh, you're writing to Santa again? Oh, good, sweetie! Are you still asking for Patty Poopsey?"

"Not really, Mommy," Bra replied somberly. "I'm asking him to forgive my daddy and to say that Daddy's sorry, even though Daddy didn't say it yet." With a sad smile that no child should know how to use, Bra turned on her heel and plodded back to her room.

Vegeta clenched his fists, silently fuming. That was _it_! No more playing along with this Santa-really-exists crap! He was telling his daughter the truth! _Tonight!

* * *

_

Bulma turned around abruptly; even though she didn't know how to sense ki, she almost always knew when Vegeta was near. He pushed past his wife with only a grunt, as he began to storm towards Bra's room. She hastily sped up to him and caught his arm.

"Where are you going, Vegeta?"

"To do something that I should have done from the beginning!" he snapped.

"And what would _that_ be?"

"If you must know, I've decided that Bra is old enough to know the truth about Santa!"

"Vegeta, no!"

"Yes! I am telling her the truth about what _really_ happened the day I supposedly attacked her precious Santa!"

"Vegeta, please! Not now!"

"Please, Vegeta, don't! You _mustn't_ tell her that Santa's not real! Please!"

This second begging came from a horrified Perky, who was now behind Bulma. Perky dashed past Bulma and placed herself directly in front of Vegeta.

"Perky, please don't!" Bulma begged. "You must move!"

"I _can't_!" Perky's lower lip was trembling. She seized Vegeta's arm. "Vegeta, please don't go to Bra like this! I promise, if you don't tell her what you're about to tell her, I will tell you _everything_ that you wanted to know about me! Just don't tell Bra that Santa's not real!"

"I'm not interested at this point," Vegeta lied angrily. "I am tired of my daughter worshipping a man that does not exist!"

"He _does_ exist, Vegeta, he _does_! Please, you must believe me! Don't go to Bra like this, and I will confess all!"

"What must-must you confess, Perky?" Bulma asked.

"Please, sit down, both of you, and I-I will tell you everything."

* * *

Bra smoothed down her pale pink, woolen nightgown, just before crawling into her white, frilly canopy bed. Her finished letter to Santa, freshly sealed in its envelope, lay on her nightstand. 

Just then, she heard a scraping noise outside her window. She bolted up and hugged herself in terror. She shivered; she had thought she had locked her window, but maybe she hadn't. Bra huddled into a ball, as the window slowly slid open, and bursts of wintry wind blew in.

She began to crawl further under the covers, as she noticed a huge, hulking man climb in through the window. She couldn't make out the shape; he was all dark and unfamiliar.

She had tried not to make a sound, hoping he wouldn't notice her, but panic overrode logic, and as the stranger walked towards her bed, Bra screamed:

"DADDY! MOMMY!"

* * *

A/N: I do not own the lyrics to _Marshmallow World, _which were written by Carl Sigman and Peter de Rose, and sung by a number of people, including Dean Martin. 


	7. Ch 7: You're Off My Naughty List

**Chapter Seven: "You're Off My Naughty List"**

(A/N: I know I'm getting bad...two years to finish a seven-chapter story! Hopefully, I can finally beat this writer's block for good. Thank you all for sticking with me and begging me to finish, even though I wasn't sure just how to end it. Anyhow, have an early Merry Christmas, and may you enjoy this conclusion. )

* * *

"DADDY! MOMMY!" 

Vegeta pushed past both Bulma and Perky, before Perky could begin her tale. Both women raced behind him.

"I'm coming, Bra!" Vegeta shouted. "No one's going to hurt you while I'm here!"

Perky gasped and grabbed Vegeta's arm. "Vegeta, wait, please! Bra will be—"

"Get off of me—NOW!"

Bulma pulled Perky away from Vegeta. "You better do as he says. Bra, baby, Mommy and Daddy are coming!"

"Please!" Perky shouted. "Bra is okay—"

Neither one of Bra's parents paid her any mind. Vegeta was the first to reach Bra's candy-pink bedroom door. He kicked her door open, and it was dangling off the hinges by the time Bulma and Perky caught up with him.

In the darkness, he saw Bra sitting on the lap of a strange, gigantic man. Vegeta slammed on the light switch and shouted, "RELEASE MY DAUGHTER NOW, YOU SON-OF-A-WHAT THE _HELL_?"

"Daddy?" Bra began timidly. "I'm-I'm okay now."

Vegeta did not reply. With his jaw dropped to his chest, he stood in place, frozen. Bulma's mouth was as open as her husband's. Perky remained the calmest of all, although even she was a bit startled by this unexpected visitor.

"Santa? You-you did make it," she whispered, amazed.

Santa Claus's belly rumbled, as he patted Bra on her back. "I got your message, Perky."

"What's going on here?" Bulma demanded to know, assuming her usual bossy persona.

"Perky." Vegeta turned towards her with dark, narrowed eyes. "Just how do you know this man?"

"He is _Santa_, Daddy!" Bra chirped. "The _real_ Santa! He told me that Santa you beat up was just someone dressed up like him, and that you were just trying to protect me and Mommy when he said mean stuff about us."

Santa smiled. "That I did, and now little Bra here has something to tell you." Bra looked at him worriedly. He whispered some words into her ear, which made her smile. She slipped off of his lap and walked towards her father with her arms wide open.

"Daddy," she murmured. "I-I forgive you; it's okay. And I'm sorry that I stayed mad at you for so long."

Vegeta's jaw trembled; he had no words to describe the unusual rush of emotions coursing through him. Hesitantly, he bent towards his approaching daughter, and she came into his arms. He scooped her up and pressed her to him tightly; nothing short of death would make him release her.

"I love you, Daddy," Bra whispered. She did not notice her own tears mingling with the several that her father was secretly shedding.

Everyone remained quiet, and after what seemed to be an hour, Santa arose and spoke:

"Ladies, may I please be alone with Vegeta for a few minutes?"

"Uh-uh-huh." Bulma's astonishment had returned.

"Santa?" Perky asked, just a bit worriedly.

Santa smiled at her. "It will be fine, Perky, I promise. You have done wonderfully for your first assignment. Your teachers would be proud. I know I am."

"WHAT?" Vegeta and Bulma exclaimed. Bra only grinned.

"Didn't Perky tell you she was a real elf?"

"I did hint," Perky admitted.

"This is insane!" Vegeta hissed. "Are you certain this isn't some sort of prank you and this old man cooked up? Scaring my little girl like this, what the hell is wrong with the two of--"

"Vegeta." Perky's voice was reproachful. "I'll admit I have kept a few things from you, but I have never lied. Now you can be alone with Santa; he'll tell you everything."

"I intend to find out everything. No detail will be left out." Vegeta's expression was grim.

"Wow!" Bra exclaimed, as Vegeta handed her to her mother. "I can't believe that you're really an elf, and that the _real_ Santa is in _my_ room and _my_ house!"

Perky cupped Bra's chin. "It's true, little Bra. And I'd like to tell you a secret before we go, okay?"

"Sure!" Bra was all smiles.

Perky whispered, "You really have a very good daddy, okay?"

Bra blushed. "I know."

"So, will you be nice to him from now on, and do what he says?"

Bra looked from Perky to her father to Santa. "Yes, ma'am."

"C'mon," Bulma ordered her firmly. "Let's go get you something to eat." She still wasn't certain that the stranger in her daughter's room was Santa, but she decided to allow her husband to have it out with this man.

Perky was twirling about on her toes, as she guided Bulma and Bra out of the bedroom. "I _told_ everyone that he was real!" she declared.

* * *

Vegeta closed the door behind him, as Santa motioned for him to sit on Bra's bed. Vegeta was still suspicious of this man, but his curiosity had the best of him, and he was determined to find out just what was the actual deal with Perky and this "Santa". 

"Perky better be telling the truth about you." Vegeta's arms were crossed, as he sat down.

Santa's expression was now grave. "She is. Vegeta, I usually don't make off-season visits like this, but Perky sent me an urgent message warning me that you were coming close to telling Bra that I didn't exist."

"Why shouldn't I have? She was furious because she was convinced that I attacked the real Santa. I was not going to be hated by my own daughter, no matter what!"

"Vegeta," Santa began calmly, "Bra never hated you. She was hurt and angry, yes, because you harmed someone she thought was a good man. Yes, she held on to her grudge for too long, and she and I talked about that. She understands now that you were just trying to protect her and her mother, and I hope that _you_ understand now how important it is for you to control your temper."

"I do." Vegeta's voice was reluctant. "But I want to know how that moron, Roddy, or whatever his name is, wound up, as you that day."

"Vegeta, many men, and yes, some women, portray me, and I don't mind that, as long as they represent me well. Rodney didn't, but he was a sick man in need of help, and he's getting it now where he is. Actually, I paid him an off-season visit too, and I have a letter from him—"

"I'm not interested."

"Vegeta," Santa began warningly. "Your daughter forgave you; I believe that was what you wanted most for Christmas. Now you can return the favor, so I am insisting that you at least hear this letter."

"Fine." Vegeta did not look at Santa, as Santa began.

_Dear Mr. Briefs,_

_I just want to say that I'm real sorry for how I treated you and your family. I was a bad Santa, but the real Santa came to me last night (I didn't believe he was real, at first, but he seemed real sincere). He showed me just how wrong I was. I shouldn't have talked about your kid and her momma like I did, and I hope someday you can forgive me. Even if you don't, it's okay; I just hope you and your family know how sorry I am._

_This is a good place I'm in. Santa told me I'm doing just fine now, and that I got a good shot of staying off the booze. I've been sober for two weeks. Actually, you beating the crap out of me that day was the best thing that anyone's done for me in a long time. So, really, Mr. Briefs, I have to thank you, cause now I'm getting the help I need._

_You and your family have a Merry Christmas._

_Sincerely,_

_Rodney Draknurd_

Vegeta grunted. He still hadn't forgiven Rodney, but at least the fool had apologized, and he was fighting his weakness; it was a start.

"I hope he keeps his word," was all he would say.

"He will," Santa told him gently. "And I know that you and Bra will be better for this incident this month. Now, Vegeta, I had to intervene; I couldn't let you ruin Bra's childhood or take away her innocence."

"I couldn't get her to forgive me; what else was I supposed to do?"

"Wait it out. Trust me, even, if I hadn't come, Bra would have forgiven you in time. Children have a much easier time forgiving and forgetting than adults; that is part of what makes children wonderful."

"I suppose I'm on your naughty list for good."

Santa smiled again. "Nah; you're off my naughty list now. Yes, your behavior while you were disguised as me was…questionable at first, but Perky assured me you had the best of intentions. She told me of your kindness towards Janey, your protectiveness of Andrew and how you encouraged him to stand up for himself, and your telling a little dentist boy to follow his dreams…no matter how strange they might seem. She also mentioned your faithfulness to your wife, when Tommy's mother made a play for you, and how sad and remorseful you were about alienating Bra from you. Vegeta, for a former assassin and temperamental man, you're…" Santa winked.

"I'm what?"

"You're…alright."

Vegeta smirked.

"And now, Vegeta, I must go. And, oh, I must advise you not to eat too heavily Christmas Eve."

"Why not?"

Santa chuckled. "Let's just say a certain…Saiyan with hair of fire wouldn't be pleased. Tell your wife she won't have to cook on Christmas Day."

Vegeta's smirk turned into a grin. "Gladly!"

"And when you wake up on Christmas, don't be surprised, if you find yourself just a bit stronger than before."

Vegeta pumped his fist. "Tell him I said _thank you_!"

Santa arose and strode towards the window. As he opened it, curls of wintry wind blew in. "And one last thing: would you do Santa a favor?"

Vegeta didn't look his way, but he was unusually jovial. "Suurre."

"Tell Goku to stop asking me to send him a strong opponent to fight! Earth has had more than enough trouble without another super-villain!"

Turning around, Vegeta chuckled. "He can face me. And also—"

Before he finished his sentence, Santa has disappeared. Not even his footprints remained. The icy wind continued to gust into Bra's room, before Vegeta finally closed the window.

* * *

The party was now coming to an end, and in the living room, Goku was about to teleport him and Chichi home, where Chichi's father awaited them, when Vegeta approached them. 

He briefly told Goku Santa's message, and a disappointed Goku hung his head down.

Vegeta, however, favored him with a rare smile. "Kakarot," he said quietly. "I want you to know, that you're not the only Saiyan who believes in Santa."

"Really?" Goku's face was now brighter than any Christmas light. He ignored Chichi's clenched fists and tight expression.

"Your wife could learn something from you," Vegeta said wickedly. "But Kakarot…"

"Yeah, Vegeta?"

"I don't care how much you believe in Santa, but if you EVER sit in my lap again, even he and the threat of his naughty list won't be able to save you from me!"

"What?" Goku exclaimed. "Since when did I sit in your—"

"Goku, let's just go!" Chichi ordered.

"But Chichi, I never sat in--"

"Let's just _go_!"

* * *

Vegeta strolled downstairs to spend time with his wife and daughter after the party had ended. He had just remembered he was supposed to take Perky home. His family was sitting around the kitchen with Goten, whom Trunks had invited to stay the night.

"Where's Perky?" he asked. He wanted to thank her in private before he took her to her boarding house.

A puzzled Bulma sipped her cup of hot chocolate. "I-I don't know, Vegeta. She just thanked me for inviting her over. She told Bra that Santa would bring all she wanted, and that I would get out of cooking on Christmas Day. She also said something strange, even for her, something about asking you to say hi to the Dark Saiyan for her."

Vegeta chuckled, unusually good-naturedly.

"Where is she now?"

Goten scratched his head. "Trunks and I offered her a ride home, but she said no thanks, and said she already had one. But she left before you came downstairs."

"And she left with no coat!" Bra exclaimed. "She'll freeze to death."

Vegeta grinned and swept her up in his arms. "No, she won't!" He kissed his daughter on her cheek. "Trust me, she'll be just fine."

* * *

The next afternoon at work, Vegeta donned his Santa suit, with much less reluctance than usual. He still thought he looked like a fool, but at least it was for a good cause. 

"Hiya…Vegeta, is it?"

Vegeta's mouth fell, as he saw a new elf—a three-hundred-plus woman looking like an overstuffed burrito in her costume.

"Who are you? Where in the hell is Perky?"

Stuckey came up behind her. "Oh, this is my cousin, Edna, Perky's replacement. Perky quit this morning. Didn't stay long either. Said some weird stuff that I didn't pay much attention to…only thing I really remember was that she said something about her 'work being done here'. Anyhow, Vegeta, she left a note for you. Kind of odd she left so fast, since she always said how much she enjoyed this job. C'mon, Edna, I'll show ya around." He slipped Vegeta the note, and he and Edna sauntered away.

Vegeta unfolded the note, feeling strangely sad, but yet not really surprised.

_Dear Prince Vegeta,_

_I really have to tell you—I enjoyed working with you—I was never bored around you, that's for sure. Thanks for helping me pass my first assignment—Santa and my teachers were so proud! I wanted to stay with you through the holiday season, but there are other people who need me now—maybe I'll get to come back next Christmas!_

_Give Bulma and your kids a hug for me…pretty please!_

_Merry Christmas,_

_Perky Fle_

_P.S. A certain Saiyan with fire for hair says he's very proud of you. He said to keep up the good work._

Vegeta didn't smirk, as he folded the note and tucked it into his pocket. Instead, another un-Vegeta-like smile had formed.

As he walked out towards Santa's throne, he rubbed his hands, as his smile curled into a wicked grin. He saw the children eagerly rushing towards his chair.

"Oh, trust me, Perky and Dark Saiyan, I _intend_ to."

**THE END**


End file.
